Welcome to the Row
by Gr8Bambino
Summary: "You ready for this player?" Julius asked Jess. The fact of the matter was that she was more ready for this than she had been for anything in her boring 19 years. (Re-upload because of disorganization with original FF post. Originally posted on DA.)
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to the Row**

 **Prologue**

"Come _on,_ Jess," Danny grabbed my arm before I stormed out of the door of my college dorm. He'd been banging my roommate, so I was not in the mood to be very forgiving at the moment. All I wanted at the moment was to be alone for a while. Later, I'd come back and maybe I'd be rid of Danny for good. He was good looking, tall, muscular in an athletic kind of way. He had a full head of wavy blond hair and a pair of round, brown eyes and a friendly face. While he was a looker and was as friendly as his face suggested, he was also a player. Six months into our relationship last year, there had been rumors of him sleeping with his female literary professor, but I had ignored them and regarded them only as stories. I should have guessed he'd be like this. Danny and I had met on the first day of my freshman year last year, when I was eighteen.

We hit it off pretty easily, but ever since we got serious and it became evident that we would be staying with each other for a while, he'd been complaining that I was a boring, no-fun type of girl. He would urge me to go out and try new things, and stay in and try new things (if you catch my drift), but I was never all that adventurous even though my roommate was. She actually had a lot of bedroom toys lying around all over the place, and while I respect her lifestyle, I sometimes feel like I need to peel off a layer of skin on my eyeballs to feel clean again. Don't get me wrong, though, I have a wild imagination. I'm a big fan of mental musical montages and I often break into song and resist the urge to dance as well. I just never lived a real interesting life out in the open.

I don't have any siblings or anything, well, unless you count my sister Denise, but I always thought her to be the spawn of something strange that came to live with us while looking related to us with the straight, light brown hair given to us by our mother and the light blue eyes given by our father. We're similar only in name and physical appearance, because Denise is a hardcore vegan and feminazi. Once she tried to talk me into burning all of my bras because it's a symbol of how this patriarchal society wants to keep the female population under lock and key like a bunch of prisoners. I don't know what kind of underwear _she_ buys, but my bras usually only come with one or two hooks, three if I'm feeling vulnerable. Anyways, while Denise is out protesting and using violence to get her way, I stay cooped up inside looking up porn and cat videos when I've finished my assignments instead of trying out the porn-style shit with Danny.

I threw him off my arm and swung my hand to give him a hard smack. I was too slow, because he dodged it and made another grab for my arm which I avoided by stepping back and turning to make a dash for the stairs.

"Stay away from me, Danny!" I shouted, anger making my face turn red and my brow furrow, "I don't want to see you again, you asshole!"

"C'mon, we were only fooling around a little, you know I'm yours," He said, as if that made it any better, "I only did it 'cause I was bored y'now, baby? I mean, you never try nothin' exciting, so I thought I'd go have a little fun, but I'd always go back to you, you know that."

"You think that makes it fucking _better?_ I knew you were a little fucking dumb, Danny, but not like this," I ignored him and his shouting about how I was a bitch for calling him dumb and about how boring I was. I didn't need him anyways; all he was doing was dragging me down in my mood when he said something stupid and in my grades when he suggested we spend a little time pleasuring each other in place of doing homework.

I called a cab to take me to the Row where I could at least walk around and think in peace among the towering abandoned churches. I waited for it while sitting on the curb outside the dorm building of Stilwater University. It was one of the nicest looking areas in the city, but it was still as much of a shithole as the whole place. Drug dealers liked to take advantage of stressed-out college students. I'm not going to lie, I've tried some, but drugs were perhaps the only adventurous thing I've ever done and I wasn't even big enough to go back and buy any myself, so I never got addicted. I didn't mind, getting addicted would have just made my life shittier. I was nineteen years old and had been ready to commit myself to a loser like Danny. I covered my face and started to cry a little, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and wetting my palms and cheeks. I was young and already life started to look like hard, boring shit.

The cabby rolled up and honked while my eyes were still red and puffy. At least I wasn't in my pajamas or anything, or else I'd look really miserable. I got up and dragged my feet towards it and flopped into the seat once I'd opened the door. Buckling up, I could feel the driver eyeing me and my red face and eyes. I ignored his gaze.

"Where to?" He asked after clearing his throat during my awkwardly silent entrance.

"The Row," I told him, digging in the pocket of my denim capris for my wallet to have ready when we got there. The drive was about twenty minutes long, and after the staring match the driver did when I first got in the car, he didn't look at me again until we reached my destination, his hand already prepared to receive his payment. I gave him a ten and a twenty and told him to keep the change before I got out quickly, shoving my wallet back into my pants.

I was wearing nondescript clothing and was generally unnoticeable, so I assumed any gangs in the area would ignore me and my neutrality, my black, baggy t-shirt and my tighter capris, my hair was even in a boring light-brown ponytail in the back of my head, and I wore no makeup around my light sea-blue eyes or any on my light skin or naturally light pink lips. I was a tired-out college student who already was starting to give up doing anything valuable in life, so why dress for success?

I left the cab and it starting speeding down the street again once I had started down the sidewalk a bit. My red face had not started to change back to normal. It was blazing hot in the middle of summer, so I couldn't really expect it to. I did my best to hide from any eyes. As I got further down the sidewalk, I appeared to be next to a chain of apartment buildings (though the more correct term for them would probably be crack houses). There were more and more people the further I walked. One guy had a box full of knockoff watches, trying to sell me one. Yeah, that shit costs six-hundred dollars in the store, but that's because it works and it's made exactly of what they tell you it's made of. Next was a prostitute, rotating her hips seductively as she met me, even if I wasn't a man. I guess it paid to swing both ways.

"Hey baby," she greeted, "I could show you a good time," she caught a look at my face and raised a brow before she continued, patting my head, "And looks as though you could use it."

A trio of yellow-clad men a little ways down the street caught our attention before I could even say anything, "Aw _hell naw_ ," One of them said, crossing his arms. They were all standing in front of a brick wall that displayed a piece of graffiti art promoting a gang called the Rollerz whose gang color was primarily blue and a rival gang of the Vice Kings who wore yellow, The Third Street Saints who wore purple, and the Los Carnales who wore red. Everyone knew all of the gang names and colors because gang activity was big in this city, and you didn't survive without knowing who to avoid and what colors not to wear in certain areas.

"Man, fuck the Rollerz!" Another said.

"Lavar," One of them started, his body language screaming anger, "You gonna let those bitches disrespect us?" He turned to his friend sporting corn rows that had a can of spray paint.

"Shit, whatchu think?" Lavar asked, lifting the can to start painting his own gang's name over the Rollerz paint.

I watched as the three Vice Kings were approached by three other men clad in blue, perhaps the one who had placed the tag was one of them. The Roller in the middle came armed with a baseball bat as he and his friends approached.

"What the fuck you think you're doin'?" he asked the Kings who turned to explain themselves aggressively.

"Just bein' civic minded is all," said the chubbiest of the kings.

"Yeah, some stupid-ass cracker gone and shit all over this wall. We just cleanin' it up."

The fighting started there, with the Roller beside the one armed with the bat struck the King who had made that last remark. Blood sprayed from his nose when the attacker's fist hit it. Lavar came in and punched the attacker and dodged another hit swung towards him by another Roller. Then, he aimed the nozzle of the paint can and sprayed it at the Roller who had failed to land the punch. He screamed in pain and felt to the ground covering his eyes while Lavar started kicking him in the stomach and ribs, drawing out pained grunts in between his time screaming. The fatass Vice King and the man with the baseball were now struggling over the weapon, but still managing to punch and knee one another in the face and in other areas. The last Roller made a break for it, running past the Prostitute and me. We pressed ourselves against the wall to keep from getting in his way, but he stumbled and struggled in front of me because he'd been hit in the back of the head with Lavar's paint can.

Three more men dressed in red came to a screeching halt beside Lavar and the Vice Kings and the remaining rollers. They were all armed with guns, pointed at the other gang members. My heart started to race and I covered my ears, unable to hear what came out from behind the Los Carnales in the passenger seat before all of the members in the car opened fire on the five men present. It turned into a gun war, the Rollerz and the Vice Kings produced guns from their clothing that I didn't even know they'd been carrying. It sent chills down my spine and made me want to run for the hills, but I was frozen to my spot against the wall, covering my ears to no avail. There were explosions of red each time someone was hit. They'd spin or jerk backwards and hit the ground to only lie still unless they were still breathing. Lavar was the last king to die, shot in the liver before he sank to the ground, but not before he made a few good shots at the Los Carnales.

The Roller that had run past me before returned with an automatic rifle, and that was good enough to get my sneakers rolling on the ground. My breathing was ragged and my reddened eyes were now wide open. I was too terrified to cry anymore, the adrenaline rushing through my veins didn't let my eyes produce any more tears because I was too busy running away.

The red car had started to speed away, but the Roller killed the driver, sending the vehicle out of control. The rear bumper caught me on my leg and sent me hurtling towards the ground a few feet away. I rolled, scraping my elbows and hands and ripping the knee of my pants, tearing the skin under it as well. I didn't care, I was alive and as far as I could tell from my place lying on the ground, my legs were still in running condition. I was about to get up and start running again until I was approached by a Vice King who was not part of the group from earlier since they were all dead. He had just killed the Roller who had slaughtered all of the Carnales in the car.

I stared back at him as he looked down on me, hoping and praying that he would notice my neutral colors. He did, but I guess he didn't care.

He uttered those earth-shattering words, "Wrong place, wrong time, Bitch," and raised his pistol towards my face, and for a split second there was only me and the barrel of that gun left in the entire world. In delayed response, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for it, my heart jumping when I heard the shot.

Moments passed by and I didn't feel dead. Opening my eyes, I felt myself. I still felt alive and the only things that hurt were my hands, elbows, and my knees. As I was busy checking my vital signs, a large man towered over me, casting a shade over my face. I squinted and looked up at him as he offered me a hand, which I hesitantly took.

"You okay, Playa?" he asked in a deep baritone as he pulled me to my feet. He lifted me up like I was paper, so I had to note that either I was a skinny bitch or this guy was like a black Hulk Hogan. His expression and tone seemed friendly enough, so I supposed thanks was in order. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to get moving.

"Julius, let's go," said his friend close behind him. I paled. My throat went dry and I observed him and the colors he was wearing. Julius Little, I'd heard about him from the news a few times, he was the leader of the Saints! A gang leader was about the scariest shit I'd ever experienced aside from the Vice King who'd stuck the barrel in my face. I would have pissed myself were my bladder only a little filled. Julius put my arm around him and helped me walk as soon as we noticed that I was walking with a limp, brought to attention only because I'd given out a struggled groan when putting weight on it. The three of us started to hurriedly flee the scene, but were almost thrown forward and off our feet by the explosion of the car behind us. We stumbled, but still managed to get away. We walked for about a block before Julius sat me down against a building to get the weight off of my aching leg. Now that I'd walked on it a bit, it wasn't as bad as it had first seemed.

"That ain't so bad, you should be fine," he told me and gestured to his friend that had come along with us, "That's Troy, you can thank him later," Troy nodded to me and I nodded back, "The Row ain't that safe no more, girl. You got gangs fightin' over shit that ain't theirs, and you in their way, they don't care if you representin' or not."

Troy had hung out in the background, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head before he finally interrupted, "Julius, this is no time to recruit."

Julius turned to him and furrowed his brow, "We need all the help we can get, son."

Troy shook his head and threw a hand at the street behind him in a dramatized gesture, "No, we need to get our asses outta here."

"In a minute," he replied sternly and turned back to me. I gave him all of my attention, he'd saved me. He made me want to shit my pants in fear of him, but he saved be, so I owed him that much credit, "Look, the Row's got a problem. Come to the church when you wanna be a part of the solution." Julius stood and gave me a slight smile before he and Troy made their escape.

Be a part of the solution? Well, that was better than going back to Danny, and I suppose I did need to thank Troy and Julius for saving my ass. They could have killed me just as easily as the Vice King. I stood up and started walking away myself. My leg was fine albeit a little scratched up and sore. I grit my white teeth and squeezed my eyes closed until it didn't ache so badly anymore. I got away and walked into a convenience store a couple of blocks away and bought myself a bottle of water and something to crunch on to calm my nerves. I walked out and ate and drank on the park bench, taking deep breaths to assess what just happened.

Danny was a fucking douche, so there was no way I was going back to anywhere near him. I'd be lucky if I never saw that man-whore again. It would also do me some justice to prove him wrong. I don't have to be boring, I can be adventurous. What's more adventurous than joining a gang? After about an hour, I got back up. The sun was still high up in the sky and beads of sweat slid down my forehead. I poured the rest of the water in my bottle on my face to cool myself, providing a sweet reprieve from the hot sun and from my toiling thoughts inside. On one hand, I could join a gang and prove that I'm an interesting, full person. On the other hand, I could possibly die, disappoint my parents, and become wanted by the federal government if I commit enough crimes. I might seem like a psychopath to pass over the cons like this, but at the moment the only thing that mattered to me was getting back at every asshole who ever thought I had a dry personality. I'll be the most interesting fucker in Stilwater if I have to be.

I limped towards the church, but after a few more minutes, the ache in my leg became hardly noticeable and I could walk normally the rest of the way. The church was old and in a gothic style architecture. If it were any larger, it would be a cathedral, but the U.S. and Stilwater weren't known for their cathedrals. It was a generic catholic-style church that loomed over the buildings around it; casting is elongated shadow over the mid afternoon street that sizzled underneath the June sun. I approached it, my attention shifting instantly to Julius who was giving a speech to a mob of men and women in violet. I stood among them, listening intently.

"Every muthafucker here knows what we need to do," he started, "Those bitches be ridin' around, thinkin' they own these streets. I don't care what flags they're flyin', Rollerz, Carnales, Vice Kings—no one's makin' this nigga scared to walk the Row. We 'bout to lock this shit down right now."

That got a few cheers and rounds of applause from his audience. I had to hand it to him because Julius was one hell of a speech-giver. He even had me pumped to do some gang shit already, whatever that might entail. Most likely killing people, but after almost getting my ass killed today I didn't think I wouldn't be able to stomach dishing that shit out.

"Fuck yeah!" An Asian man with a Jersey Shore-style haircut with bleached tips and a pair of sunglasses in front of me exclaimed, looking behind him at all his fellow Saints until his eyes settled on me. He pointed and furrowed his brow, spitting, "Who the fuck's this, bitch?" That drew the attention of several other gang members.

Julius nodded to the guy who'd pointed me out and explained, "Troy and I found her. I was gonna see if she'd ride with us."

"Julius," He'd taken on a matter-of-factly tone, "If she wants to run with the Saints, she's gotta be canonized."

Troy nodded in agreement, "Hey, he's right, Julius, everyone had to do it."

"You ready for this, Playa?" Julius asked me. I looked around at the Saints members cracking their knuckles and necks and clenching their fists. My brows raised up in surprise and I stayed glued to my spot among them.

"If, uh," I started, "If 'canonized' means giving me a welcome hug, yeah, I'm down with that," my voice cracked a little bit and the Asian guy from earlier laughed at me.

"That ain't even close to what it means," he said, assuming the position to fight.

I tried to casually shrug and assume the same position they'd taught me in the women's self-defense class I'd been dragged to with my sister and chuckled nervously, "Guess I'm down with that too." Never had I dreamed I'd ever have to use any of the moves. Aim for the crotch: that was always a good start.

The first guy came at me, swinging a punch. I nearly shrieked when I jumped backwards to avoid it. In a frantic but fluid motion, my foot came up and hit him in the crotch. _Don't scream, don't you dare scream,_ I kept telling myself. My fists were clenched tightly although I hadn't used them yet. The man I'd kicked in the crotch was struggling to get back up. I kicked him in the face this time and he stayed down. Two guys came after me next and I aimed to use the same method. Aim for the crotch. He dodged it and laughed at me, calling me a little girl before I was launched forward into him by a blow to the back of my head. I felt weak and I struggled to get back up. The saint I'd been leaning on punched me in my stomach and my legs went completely weak. I was deadweight and he dropped me. After a few deep breaths, I'd gained control of my legs again, but the two were starting to stomp on me. I covered my face with my arms and kicked at them hard. I heard a light crunch and a shriek as one of them felt towards the ground on top of me. I punched him in the face, pain shooting from my hand up throughout my whole arm and I let out a cry in response. I couldn't let this distract me too much. I threw off the Saint who was lying on top of me, cradling his nards in his hands. It took some effort, but I finally worked my way out from underneath him while the other Saint got busy trying to stomp me again. I caught his foot with both of my hands and used all of my upper body strength to keep him from crushing my face beneath his work boot. I kicked upwards again and caught him in the stomach, weakening him before I aimed again at his groin area. I was shameless. When he had been subdued and was also lying on the ground, protecting his family jewels with his hands, I'd gotten up just as a fourth guy came at me. I jumped backwards and to the side to dodge his attacks, taking a kick to the knee. God, that hurt and I grit my teeth, but threw all my might into a punch at his nose. It caught the side of his nose and he put his hand up to cover the gush of blood coming out of it. I raised my brows, surprised at what I had done. I'd actually broken somebody's nose! My attacker backed down once he felt lightheaded from all that bleeding.

Another guy approached me, but instead of attacking he slapped me on my back and gave me thumbs up. I guess I'd passed canonization, albeit by cheating. I still passed. The other guy I recognized as Troy in his oversized purple polo shirt, chewing on his toothpick.

"You earned your colors today," he said. That was impressive. Who knew kicking some guys in the balls would earn me (little) respect? I smiled and nodded.

Another someone came up behind me and patted me on the back. I twisted around to see the face since the voice was new, "That was, uh, Impressive work," that sounded more like a question than a compliment, "Johnny kicked the most ass during his canonization, though."

"Good to know," I replied, looking at the guy the new face had gestured to, recognizing it as the man who'd pointed me out earlier. That was Johnny.

"Shit," said Johnny, "Took me half the time too, and I didn't have to kick nobody in the dick."

Whatever.

Julius was now approaching, smiling and maybe a little bit disturbed by the whole scene as everyone else was, but he still looked pleased, "Welcome to the Third Street Saints," He told me. I smiled and shrugged sheepishly in reply.

Julius stepped back and got right down to business. I guess I wasn't going to take a few minutes to work over the fact that I'd just joined a street gang.

"Let's get back to business. If we're serious about takin' back the Row, we gotta let those muthafuckers know what time it is. Now, you break it down, and it's all about respect. Get enough of it, and they're gonna back off, and we're gonna move right on in. We got some friends in town that could use some help. Give 'em a hand. 'Course, you can always drop some muthafuckas flyin' the wrong flag. So long as the word gets out that the Saints is on the Row, I don't give a damn how you do it. You feel me?"

Come on, Jess, you feelin' this?

Yes sir, I am.


	2. Chapter 2

**bWelcome To the Row- Chapter 1- Ascension/b**

Later that day after my canonization, I slept inside the church that I had met Johnny Gat and the rest of the gang at. My head still ached from getting punched, and the scrapes I'd earned even earlier when Julius and Troy had saved my ass still ached, but I ignored it. Altogether, my muscles felt fatigue and my eyes were heavier than they would have been had I not cried my eyes out like a pussy before I left Danny. At least with the Saints, nobody cared how much I talked. At home, I'd get told to shut my mouth for talking too much and to speak up when I barely talked. At least here, nobody cared how I dressed as long as I wore purple, and nobody cared that I wasn't altogether that interesting because so far, it didn't seem to matter whether I was or wasn't.

I smiled and stared up at the ceiling so far away from where I lay on a church pew. It was dark and I could hardly make out the faded tile murals of angels and heaven above me. Back before the tiles had started to fall and there were newer churches that weren't too drafty or too gothic and depressing looking, I bet those murals were breath-taking. Slowly, my heavy eyelids locked down and I fell into sleep that would be interrupted every so often by sudden drafts unusually cold for the season and the laughter or chatter of other Saints who stayed up all night. Always, always I would quickly fall back into slumber until the sun started to peek through the stain-glass windows.

Despite the fatigue still left in my muscles, I sat up, stretched, yawned, and rubbed my eyes. It was the usual morning routine without a toothbrush. I felt my pocket for my wallet and was happy to see that it was still there. I guess it wouldn't hurt to go buy myself a pack of those disposable toothbrushes, because at the moment my morning breath could probably melt someone's face off. Disgusted with myself, I quickly shuffled out of the church and into the warm, but pleasant morning sun. This was perfect weather to walk to the gas station in.

The walk wasn't that long, and since after I woke up, my knees weren't so irritated when they bent at the wound anymore. My hands in my pockets, I pushed the door to the gas station open and bought myself a bottle of water and what I'd gone there for and brushed my teeth on the way back to church. After that, I felt satisfied and refreshed. It left a small smile on my face.

As soon as I'd gotten into the yard of the church again, Troy opened the large, splintering door and nodded to me. I observed that he had another toothpick in his mouth, and he too wore the same clothing as he did yesterday. He still almost looked like he didn't belong here, but the cheesy beard and mustache combo he sported sort of ruined any kind of placement anywhere else. If he shave that off and combed his hair there was a chance I could imagine him as a businessman or something. I was about to wave to him and say good morning, you know, trade pleasantries and all that, but he cut me off.

"Hey, new girl, it's time for you to buy a piece," he told me as he approached. Some greeting that was.

"A piece?" I didn't quite understand all this gang jargon yet, so I asked, "A piece of what?"

Troy sighed and shook his head, swiping a greasy-looking curl back into place as he did so, "Not a piece of something. When we talk about a piece, we mean a gun. You know: firearms."

"Oh," Yeesh, I sounded like an idiot. At least the option to keep my mouth shut was still open. If I talked too much, people might get the idea that I was chatty and I'd be expected to speak up.

Lucky for me, he seemed to forget my naiveté quickly, "We're gonna head over to friendly fire and get you somethin', here, take this," He took my hand and slapped a roll of fifty-dollar bills into it. My eyes went wide and I almost choked because I'd never seen more than two or three fifties together at once. Assuming it was for the gun and ammunition I was about to get for myself, I pocketed it and I went towards the direction he'd pointed me to, a gun store ironically named friendly fire, ironically so considering what I was probably going to have to do with the items I bought there. Somehow, the thought didn't make my throat go dry or leave a ball of ice in my stomach.

Troy followed me inside and we were greeted by a metallic, but ashy smell along with some kind of western-type of music. The man behind the counter eyed us as I picked out a gun. I'd been given a thousand dollars, but I was frugal by nature, so I didn't want to spend it all in one place. I looked at the VICE 9 behind the glass and pointed to it. The man nodded, unlocked the case and slid it across the counter from me. I gave him one-hundred dollars for it and an extra fifty for the ammo I would need. Then, I looked at the automatic choices. I knew from playing Grand Theft Auto what that meant. Behind the glass was a T3K Urban costing five-hundred dollars. I paid for it and the ammo and walked away with two new guns I'd probably have to use later.

"Don't you go wavin' this around like some cap gun," the man behind the counter told me. I could understand his concern, really.

I was right.

Troy started as soon as we left the shop, "Alright, whaddaya say we take that piece and clean up the Row?"

I guess I wasn't completely innocent or stupid because I knew what he meant when he said 'clean up.' I could put two and two together and guess that it didn't mean we were using these guns as pokers to pick up garbage. I agreed anyway and let Troy lead the way.

We didn't get ten feet outside of the store before he told me to hijack a car to make things easier on us. Apparently all I had to do was step out in front of one and hope it stopped, and if it did, I'd stay close to it while I walked around to the driver's side to pull the driver out and take it for myself. Luckily, there was a stop sign at the end of the street and I got in on the passenger's side of the first car in line. Seeing my new VICE 9, the driver didn't argue with me when Troy and I got in.

"Alright, all you gotta do is find some Vice Kings and put 'em down," he told me, "shouldn't be that hard to spot 'em, they're all wearin' that piss-yellow color."

I nodded in response and drove around the block, taking a few different turns until I spotted two. From his seat, Troy started firing his own weapon, kneecapping one of them. I shrieked as a form of panic and floored-it, heading straight for the pair of piss-yellow wearing assholes firing at us. I got one, and he rolled up the hood of the car and nearly shattered the windshield which he'd left a nice blood spatter on too, which was now leaking through the cracks in the glass. The sight of it pumped adrenaline through my veins and I… I smiled?

I couldn't stop smiling, but it didn't feel anywhere near one of those creepy clown smiles or a particularly happy expression. My heart beat faster and I wasn't shrieking anymore, I was just smiling as I got out of the vehicle and found the last vice king hiding behind an overturned table at the restaurant we'd found the two near. I had my SMG in hand, holding it sideways just as Troy was holding his gun and I started firing a spray of bullets at my target. He didn't last very long, and with each bullet going through his torso was a spray of blood that I watched without feeling nauseous. I was starting to scare myself with how little this fazed me. We got back in the car after Troy dragged the King that had died on the hood of the car off and dumped him on the sidewalk.

"Damn," Troy said, "You ever killed anyone before now?"

I shook my head in response and wondered if he noticed how this wasn't really bothering me as much as it would a typically 'normal' person.

"At least you're not cryin'. Still, I kinda thought you'd be the type of girl to just keep quiet, maybe do some hookin' when money got tight, and never seriously roll with a gang. You got some psych problems or somethin'? 'Cause I'm thinkin' this shit should be a little weird for you."

"Well, it's weird," I told him, "but it isn't bothering me like I thought it would."

"You're fucking psychotic. I'd call you Old Man Bates if you weren't a chick. Hey, what's your name, anyway?"

I shrugged and was hesitant to reply while I drove, searching for more Kings, "Well, I've never really done anything crazy or fun with my life so far if that makes any difference to you," I told him, trying to avoid the name question.

"It doesn't. Why, do boring people have special names?"

Damnit. I sighed lightly and kept my attention on the road, "I'm just Jess. Nothing special."

"Good to finally meet you officially, Jess," he told me, but the greeting was cut short there, because I ran into another Vice King, running her into an electric pole before Troy and I ducked down in our seats and took out the remaining two VICE Kings there. I didn't smile at it anymore, but I still got an excited buzz and, I guess killing people kind of turned me on. Fuck it, Troy was right, I guess I am a psycho. Nobody but me would be playing a musical montage to murdering during this. I had a vast library of Megadeth and Children of Bodom songs that would go great with this, though I wasn't too big on the screamo since if I tried singing along, I'd always wear out my throat. I guess I was fonder of singing along to my own mental montages than just listening to them. That doesn't make me a bad person, it just means I'm easily entertained by myself. I suppose that could have resulted in my seemingly anti-social behavior and 'boring' to others, although I wouldn't describe myself as anti-social.

When they were all dead, I backed up the car from the electric pole. The blood stain on the hood was much bigger than before, and the woman on the end of it stuck for a few seconds, but I couldn't pay much attention to it when Troy was talking at me.

"Things are starting to get too hot around here, let's go somewhere we can hide out and have our tracks covered," I nodded and drove where he told me to in between his sticking his head out of the window to shoot at any followers we had.

I guess I'd pissed off the Vice Kings more than I had ever pissed off any group of people in my life. He told me to drive up and enter, but stop in an old service station where we could take off the license plates and fix up the car to look just that much unrecognizably different. The first thing we did was get rid of the bloodstain and hose off the broken windshield. It didn't matter to me since I didn't plan on keeping this car. The next thing we did was put a few different paint designs so the car would look different. Considering it still worked, we got back inside and started to drive off.

"Hey, Jess, now that everything's all good, you mind droppin' me off at Freckle Bitch's? I'm jonesin' for a Fun Bag."

I agreed and smiled to myself. Troy seemed pretty cool, and so did Julius. I guess Gat didn't seem too bad; he just seemed to like making things miserable for others from what I could gather. I'm sure I'd get used to him eventually. As for everyone else, I hadn't really met them all officially yet.

I dropped Troy off at Freckle Bitch's and he gave me thanks before he got out of the car. But he didn't go just yet. He leaned down so his face could still be visible through the door as he dug in his pocket for something. It took him a second, but soon he produced a black flip-phone and a key-ring with one key on it. He tossed them both to me.

"Julius told me to give these to you. That phone's so we can contact you since you didn't seem to have one on you earlier. That key's to an apartment in the Red Light district so you don't gotta sleep at the church every night."

"Oh," I replied, checking out the phone and the key to my new home, "Thanks, Troy."

"Don't thank me, thank Julius," he told me, giving me a nod and shutting the car door before he walked into the restaurant.

I pulled out of the parking lot and made it a few meters away before I got a call on my new phone. I answered and Julius' voice came out through the speaker.

"Good work, playa, word's gotten out that the Saints ain't bullshittin'. Now we gotta lock our rep down. I got a friend that needs your help with a little job. Get on over there and help him out with whatever he needs," Of course, I told him I'd do it. Julius still made me want to shit my pants a little.

I drove to the location Julius prompted me to go. It was about ten minutes away across the bridge, but when I sped, it didn't take me long to get there. It was a plain looking street corner inhabited by a chunky little black man wearing a purple leisure suit, smoking a cigarette and drinking something out of a n expensive looking wine glass. Really the only way to describe it correctly is if I called it a goblet. He had small, half-circle glasses perched at the end of his nose and hair cut close to his skin with a beard to match. Around his neck was a thick silver chain; around a couple of his fingers were big gold and silver rings to show off how 'classy' this guy was. He was leaning up against the brick wall beside the corner when I approached him.

"What's goin' on, girl?" He asked, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke in my direction. I kept a straight face even though I wanted to cough, "Julius called and said you might be stoppin' by. You lookin for a little somethin' somethin'? 'Cause if so, I can get Peggy over there to give you a ride," He pointed to the woman only a few feet away and I cringed.

She was about my height in heels, but had fat rolls that could probably store an entire bread loaf if she dropped it in her cleavage, but her size suggested that food rarely ever missed her mouth. She wore clothes that did not do her figure any justice. Her ass-cheeks hung out of a pair of white shorts that would be pretty modest by the standards of someone my size, which would be average. Hell, you could consider them Mormon shorts if she wasn't a fucking Hutt. Her shirt was cut off to expose her midriff so you could see the stretch marks on her pale white belly and the rolls of fat on her back, which she exposed to me in a stereotypically sexy stance. She took her fat hand whose wrist was decorated with bracelets that would jingle on a skinnier person and ran it up the back of her leg to show off her bottom. I almost puked, but I didn't. Instead, I made a face that clearly suggested how disgusted I was at the thought of experimenting with my sexuality with a hooker like Peggy.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," Said the pimp, a little amused at my reaction. I could bet the rest of the money in my pocket that I'd turned green. He went on to explain himself and the situation, "Look, I gotta be honest. I'm trying to get a business started here, but right now the only ho I got is so fugly that blind motherfuckers turn her down," Peggy made a face that said just how insulted she was at that while she flipped us both the bird, "Now, if you could bring me back some of those i _fine/i_ bitches that are turnin' tricks for other pimps, I'd be seein' some real money. But I ain't askin' for somethin' for nothin'. I mean, you help me out I'll cut you in on what the bitches make, and I'll spread the word that the Saints are the real deal."

That sounded good enough to me. I mean, I wasn't going to sell my own body, but I was all for getting the Saints a cut in what someone else did. I nodded and shook the Pimp's hand to assure him we had a deal. He gave me the goal of six hookers to get for him, and that didn't seem too bad. How hard would getting prostitutes into my car be? On my way around to find the ones he wanted, I came across another Saint and I called him to me to help me out in case the other pimps were a little too hard to handle if I ran into any. He gladly got into the car and greeted me with a grin that said he was all too eager to spread carnage. The truth is, I only needed him along because I'd never killed anyone without the help of someone else, and I was a little hesitant to do it on my own.

I found the conspicuously dressed pimp in a blue zebra-print fur coat with white trim, wide-legged, white pants and platform shoes, and of course his big hat with a feather in it. I almost laughed at how similar he looked in comparison to the pimps I've seen in movies. My new friend and I, who had introduced himself as Antonio, got out of the car and approached the first pimp and his two hoes, just as the pimp was chewing out one of them.

"Don't you look at me sideways again, bitch," He said, raising a hand to slap her, "You don't need teeth to fuck." I'd left my SMG in the car, but my VICE 9 was shoved in the waist of my pants against my spine. I got closer to them, enough to stand next to the man, and took it out aiming at the pimp's temple before I fired, getting covered with blood from his skull's explosion. Okay, that actually did make me feel a little queasy and I turned my hands over, the gun still in my right to look at myself, covered in blood. I could almost puke. My fingers went numb and my insides turned freezing cold. I could hardly breathe at the sight of the dark red liquid that had sprayed over me.

Antonio came over and raised his dark eyebrows at me, swearing a little in Spanish before he spoke directly to me.

"Shit, man," he said, "You got that shit all over you. Here," He'd been wearing a purple bandana around his neck like he'd had it covering the lower half of his face earlier, and he gave it to me to wipe off what had gotten on my face. I took it graciously and got off all of the blood that was on my skin, and tried to hand it back to him, but he waved his hand and shook his head, saying, "Yeah, you can keep that."

I didn't really want it, but I shoved it into the front pocket of my pants anyway, giving him thanks. He'd noticed that I wasn't wearing purple like him, but I'd recognized him from my canonization yesterday, so he knew who I was. He wasn't one of the ones I'd kicked in the nuts though, he was just an onlooker.

"You gonna be a Saint, you gotta look like a Saint," he told me as he took off the purple baseball cap he was wearing and shoved it on my head in the same sideway style he'd been wearing it, "Besides, your hair looks like shit. Dye it, bleach it, do something with it, and maybe you'd be riding on a dick instead of riding in a piece of junk like you're driving around."

"Fuck you," I told him, furrowing my brow and coming to a realization that yeah, I looked like I'd crawled from one of my sister's feminazi rallies where they all wore unflattering clothes, wore no make-up and basically looked like they didn't even try to look at all feminine, which to me kind of blew the whole point of supporting femininity when they dressed like men usually would. Not that I was really looking to impress anyone at the moment.

"Not interested," he replied dryly, "Anyways, ain't you gonna collect these hoes?" He gestured to them, cowering against a fence and I remembered what I'd come here for. I told them to get in the car and they obeyed, so Antonio and I were able to drive them to the brothel and go after the next four girls. The events after that first group were pretty insignificant, since Tony and I had worked out a system. He'd take care of the pimps as I got the girls into the car. He was pretty helpful.

When we were done, I got another call, but this time it was from Troy, telling me about a liquor store that was being used as a Carnales hideout. I found a pen and paper in the glove box of the car and wrote down the address since I was technologically impaired and couldn't figure out how to make notes on my cellphone.

Before I started on the journey there, however, Antonio spoke up again, "You gonna be a Saint, you should probably fly their colors so nobody on our team accidentally drops you. Why don't you roll up to Sloppy Seconds and get somethin' with the money you just earned from Will?" Will was the Pimp I had talked to earlier, the one who asked me to kill pimps for their prostitutes.

"I don't know, I should probably go see what Troy needs done—."

He cut me off, "Bullshit, you got plenty of time. I'll go in and help you get somethin' if going in alone makes you as uncomfortable as you make it look."

I eyed him with a brow raised at this suggestion. This was perhaps the first time I've heard of a man willing to go shopping with someone he didn't know. I demanded to know the reason behind it, so I asked, "Why?"

He shrugged, "I need something to do. Droppin' those pimps was the highlight of my day, and I'm not exactly high in rank compared to people like Troy and Dex. I guess helpin' you out a bit longer and watching your back while you get on our colors isn't such a bad idea. I might die tomorrow, but at least I would have done something useful to someone today."

He made a good point, I guessed, but I wasn't so sure about the whole clothing shop thing. If this was a continuation of being canonized and they catch me with my pants down (literally), I'm going to be pissed. I could be dead, too, but if I was still alive, I'd be mostly pissed. But he didn't look all that threatening and I had reason to believe Troy and Julius when they suggested that my canonization was over and done with. Giving a final shrug I finally agreed and we drove to Sloppy Seconds, a store whose name was less than classy, but still fitting considering it sold hand-me-downs that were almost never top-quality.

I was fine with the sneakers I had on, black and white high-tops. They were worn, but as long as they fit, were comfortable, and the soles stayed on, I wasn't ready to get a new pair of pants, so I stayed away from the pairs of dirty, used shoes piled up in a corner of the store. As for everything else I wore, at least the clothes in here were given a run through the wash before they made it to the rack. I used to work at one of these stores in one of the safer districts of Stilwater back when I was in high school. It was my first job, and the shittiest one I had. Right now, I was in between jobs when Julius found me, having quit the one I had at a Freckle Bitch's in the same district as my first job. I guess since I was getting paid for stealing girls for pimps, I could call this some sort of job too.

"Hey, you need any clean underwear?" Tony asked while I was looking through the small collection of button-down shirts they had. I turned to see why he sounded so amused at that, but I was equipped with a negative answer.

"No, I'm not buys underwear in a disgusting place like this-, what the i _fuck!?"/i_ He'd launched a purple, lacy thong my way, and I almost collapsed on the floor to die because God knows what kind of person wore that thing before it got to the store. I let the underwear drop to the floor and grit my teeth at him, "I'm going to get you back for that, dickhead!"

He only laughed at me and left the rest of the underwear alone. Whoever thought giving away used underpants was a good idea is seriously fucking stupid unless they're alright with putting on the same pair of underwear someone with crabs or gonorrhea wore. I think I've already made it clear that I'm pretty against wearing anyone's underwear but my own.

"Fuck off," I pressed, not quite yet ready to let the underwear thing go. I never used to get so irate, but the events in the past few days concerning my love life and my life in general had rubbed my patience down to a nub. Danny was a dumbass, and ever since I'd met and joined up with the Saints, I've felt like a bumbling idiot, stumbling about and taking shots in the dark at things I didn't and felt like I could ever fully understand. Hopefully it got better from here, but I doubted it

He just shook his head to get me off his back and replied, "Whatever. Just go put this on," and I was tossed a white men's tanktop and a purple plaid shirt to go over it before he was eyeing the holes in my knees, "You should probably get some pants because if you walk around looking like that, you'll look homeless."

Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Tony. I grabbed a pair of women's denim shorts that looked like they would fit me and went to go put everything on in the dressing room, shoving my old clothes into a wastebasket in the back where hangers were usually tossed. The only things I even kept aside from my wallet were my underwear and the bloodstained bandana that Tony had given me earlier. So I dressed leaving the plaid shirt unbuttoned, it was even a little big on me, so I assumed it might be a men's shirt. It was lengthy enough to almost reach the hem of the shorts that stopped mid-thigh. The tank-top had a brownish stain up around the neck area. I'd witnessed enough midnight nosebleeds to know what it was, but at this point a little dry blood didn't bother me as much as the fresh stuff had an hour ago. I don't know what it is, but I feel like I should be crying my eyes out over the kills I'd made. I could force myself to cry, but what would be the point considering every time I try a voice in my head says one little thing that's enough to console me to the point I almost forget about what I'd done? i _They weren't good people anyways_ ,/i it says. And I nod my head. That's true. They weren't good people. So I stop feeling bad about taking them out.

I made my way to the counter and paid for the clothing and looked around the store for Tony who'd disappeared outside to wait for me. Maybe he was afraid I'd come out and stab him with a wire hanger for throwing that used underwear at me. It didn't matter now, because we were going to go take care of that liquor store deal with the Carnales. My shit paid for, I walked out and nodded to him to follow me.

I needed a new car at the moment. The one I had needed a windshield replacement and it wasn't even my car, so I'd eventually get pulled over for having it sooner or later. I retrieved all of my goodies and the address for the liquor store before I ditched the vehicle completely and went for something a little less conspicuous than a broken-windshielded and bloodstained Hummer. A little bit down the road from the Sloppy Seconds was a shiny, good looking Pontiac GTO which I instantly fell in love with. The paint was a dark, grayish shade of blue that sparkled when the sun hit it, and the windows were tinted just the way I would like them, too. Someone had the passenger's door open and was loading plastic bags full of whatever they just bought into the seat. I cocked my gun and approached.

I stood around on the driver's side of the car, extending my arm with my VICE 9 in hand over the roof. The owner stopped what he was doing when he felt another presence and he glanced up at me, the sight of a gun not registering at first.

"I want your car keys now," I told him and he chuckled at me, standing up straight to get a good look at me and my firearm again. When it finally clicked in his brain, he put his hands up silently and I urged him for his keys again. He gave them to me without protest.

Tony had followed me to the car and as soon as I'd gotten in, he'd pushed the former owner out of the way and got in beside me, kicking and tossing out some of the groceries that had been occupying the seat before his arrival.

"Alright, I'm guessing you're going after that Carnales stronghold, yeah?" He asked. I gave him a nod and he got out his .45, "Good, because I need something to do."

The drive to the liquor store occupied by the Carnales wasn't long, it was surprisingly closer to the Row than I had initially expected, which was good for gas, but not for the Saints. I see now why it was so important we clean the place up. I parked around the side, taking the keys in my hand and shoving them into my pocket before Antonio and I made our way to the entrance. It was a musty looking place; somewhere old men would buy liquor before they would go home to their collection of twelve-gauge shotguns, mustache grooming kits, and a hunting dog. The door was open to the public, however. The Carnales obviously wouldn't have been hiding in the front of the shop.

Tony went ahead to the back and I followed quickly after him, ducking as soon as I opened the door because almost immediately there had been a warning shout, the clicking of guns and the harsh cacophony of gunfire coming soon afterward. It might not have been safe to hide behind a barrel of alcohol, but Tony and I did anyway, taking out the three Carnales members in the hall leading towards the storage.

It went quiet as soon as everyone was dead and we both stood up, walking up to the fresh corpses we just made. I nudged one with my foot while Tony turned one over and observed each of their faces.

"None of these guys looks familiar, you gotta look around and make sure you got everyone, 'cause there should be a lieutenant around he somewhere."

That's when we heard the growl of an engine and the squeal of the tires. Tony responded by swearing and grabbing my arm to drag me after him to the outside of the shop. The Carnales lieutenant was getting away! We hopped in my new car and I revved up the engine, flooring it to pick up speed after my target. Tony helped by clearing out any followers we had on our tail and firing a few shots to the red jeep ahead of us that was about to make a sharp turn. One hand on the wheel, I followed suit, my other hand out the window with my VICE 9 aiming for the back window of the car, hoping to get a shot inside at the driver.

Mission Beach was only a few blocks away from the Row, and we followed him there, driving over the dunes on the beach just as he did until he came to a spinning stop, his machine gun in hand, firing at us. No way was I going to let this asshole put any dings in my new car. I came to a skidding halt and aimed for his head with my handgun.

"Yo, fuck that!" Tony said beside me, laying a hand on my SMG and pointing it out of the window, firing a spray of bullets that made the lieutenant convulse upon being struck with before he finally dropped to the ground where his blood seeped into the sand.

As soon as he dropped, I stepped on it and drove up the beach to roll onto the sidewalk and the road and almost taking out a pedestrian on my way, but I was far too concerned with getting the hell out of there to really care.

A minute or so down the road, I got a call from Julius and I answered. As soon as the ringing stopped, he started to speak, "Swoop by the church and scoop us. It's time to finish this shit."

What shit he was talking about, I had no idea. All I was completely certain of at this moment concerning the Saints was where the church was. Assuming Antonio would benefit from swinging by the church with me I let him stay for the ride there, and parked my new car close to the entrance. I only waited for a minute or so before I saw Troy and Julius coming my way.


	3. Chapter 3

Once Troy and Julius were within earshot Troy piped up, carrying a tone of urgency when he spoke. "I got a tip that there's a turf war goin' on right now. If we crash their party, we can ake all those son bitches out at once."

I nodded and they looked towards the vehicle I'd arrived in, indicating that I was responsible for driving the three of us to our destination. That was fine by me, and I turned on my heel, ready to hop back in it. Tony was gone though; he must have snuck away in the short moment that Troy had busied me with my orders. I fully intended to survive, so I was certain we would see one another again later.

The three of us were headed to the docks, and once we were all more or less in the vehicle, I revved up the engine and slammed on the gas. I've always been a little dry in personality, but at least I had some string of individuality with the intensity of my impatience. Long drives irritated me, so I vowed once I first had my license that I would go as fast as I could from point A to point B without being illegal. In other words, I push the speed limit, and today I've definitely gone over. I was lucky that the Stilwater cops couldn't give half a shit long as nobody gets run over and/or killed, or else I'd have them on my tail.

Neither of my passengers seemed to mind the velocity at which my beautiful, metal death machine was being thrown. Julius even spoke up with a calm heads up for what was ahead being, "I hope you're strapped, 'cause we're about to go in hard."

Troy—who now that I was in a close proximity to realized did not chew toothpicks, but smoked cigarettes (sue me for having shitty eyesight, I can't fucking afford glasses, and yeah I admit I should have guessed by the smell) - interjected with a nod as he cocked his own pistol, "An' I ain't gonna lie to you. Once we get in, it's gonna get rough," I saw out of the corner of my eye since Troy had perched himself in the passenger seat (with Julius leaning in between us from the back) the insecurity about this situation grip him, "Eh, Julius? You isure/i it's cool we take Jess instead of Johnny?"

"You worry too much. She'll be just fine," Julius assured the both of us, though a strange calm had already settled over me. What really frightened me was my new nonchalant personality. Was it me, or was this someone else doing the crazy things they would do and using my body to do it? I couldn't place this as myself.

Silence settled in the vehicle, and not five minutes after the entire conversation took place, did we arrive. Twin pistols in hand, I opened up my car and got out with the others, waiting for Julius to make the call of what move we should make next. Gunshots blared from behind one of those huge delivery trucks, and I must've still looked nervous from my soul-searching just a minute ago because I earned a single friendly pat on my shoulder.

"Don't worry," Julius told me, "Stick with Troy n' me, and you'll do just fine," But that was the end of reassurances because business started immediately after, "You got three lieutenants. You'll know who they are. Kill 'em."

My head bobbed affirmatively and I readied my pistols to shoot to kill. I stayed close to my two superiors, trigger fingers at the ready, and when the ricochet of missed shots sounded around my person, I picked up and aimed my weapons at the red shirts. At the risk of making a lame joke, they were expendable anyway. I shot down a guy who had an extra ton to carry around, and he more or less rolled onto his back when he was taken out. Good night, fatass. Two other Carnales members who were rather average looking aside from their bright red shirts followed him, and the rest, about eight more were taken out by Julius and Troy, but that wasn't it. We'd only gotten through one lieutenant who wore an especially significant amount of red and a bandana, setting him apart from the rest who wore nothing on their heads.

"C'mon," Troy nodded to me, "This way," and I followed after him to the docks, Julius not far behind. Of course, there were plenty of carnales and a multitude of large cargo boxes of which they could hide behind, so I was always on my guard, my trigger fingers always itching to shoot at whatever. Honestly? I found it hard to keep my guns down to lower the risk of shooting Troy in the spine. Lucky for the both of us, though, when trouble was ahead, he got down on his knee so I could stand and shoot over his head.

They took turns popping out from behind the boxes once the wooden structure was beneath our feet, and I was pushed and pulled by my company to a hiding spot chosen by Troy, who had hastily told me to keep my head down. I guess I had let myself get careless in my overly stressed mind. The gunshots called me back to reality and I sweat despite the cool breeze.

Troy stuck his gun out first, then his head to see where he was shooting, and almost as quickly as he had exposed himself, I heard the dying scream of another enemy gang member. He was good and I raised my brows a little at that, but had little time to appreciate what a great shot he was since he'd given me the go-ahead to take my turn. I removed myself from my crouching position and took a peek up, over the box we were hiding behind. Across the dock from me, I saw the top of someone's head, coming up slowly, and I took a shot, splattering their brains all over the wall of the warehouse building behind them. Once more I assumed my hiding position, and all was quiet.

"Let's get a move-on," was the word from Julius. Troy left first, keeping his head down and I followed suit like always. The two lieutenants remaining had to be pretty close.

The dock wound around the warehouse that separated us from our targets, so going their length would get us where we needed to be. It was nothing more than a few kills and a few turns, all of which Troy had taken in stride. I really didn't feel like I was contributing enough compared to all that Julius' right hand was doing, but every now and then, I'd look back at the boss and he'd give me this reassuring glance, or sometimes an unsolicited pat on the arm if we were close enough.

The number of breathing people wearing red quickly diminished as we set farther on, and I furrowed my brow. I had thought this was a Carnales thing, but it looked like we were busting in on a territory war since the next few people firing at us wore the same piss-yellow as the Kings. I fired and took a couple of them down myself, but it was Troy and Julius who did most of the work, and Julius who had blown apart the Lieutenant for the Kings. Now, I supposed all that was left was the boys in blue, who were just behind the building across from the one we'd just passed to get to the Kings.

Surprisingly enough, there weren't too many Rollerz, and I took the initiative and headed in first, though I caught a glimpse of Troy frowning and almost dropping his cigarette at that. All I wanted was to be able to take the ropes and do a little something on my own. Using the corner of the building as cover, I leaned only slightly to catch a glimpse of the Rollerz lieutenant we were looking for. He was easy enough to spot, wearing a little more than the uniform blue sweatpants, and I took a shot from across the cargo yard, catching him in the knee, then another aimed to get his spine. This alerted his friends who now started to swarm towards my spot. Backed off from my corner, and Troy stepped in, giving off the feeling that he was satisfied I knew when to back up. Together, we plowed through the six other gang members left—lucky for me because I had run out of bullets before the third to last had gone down.

"What did I tell you, Troy?" Julius sounded pleased, and as I stay leaned up against the wall with my pistols pocketed again, I received a hearty pat on the shoulder from him, "The kid's a natural."

I shook a little externally now that the adrenaline I had built up was no longer being given an outlet, and inside my heart was racing, but I wasn't at all scared. Searching for the word now, I'd have to say I was excited—thirsty for more action like that. I only returned to him a stunned smile.

Troy didn't seem to happy, but not because he wasn't impressed or anything. Red and blue lights blared through the dark since the sun had set a little while after our arrival, "The cops are comin'," He said urgently, "C'mon, we gotta lose 'em!" And we started retreating back to my car.

We were in faster than could be expected, but of course the hasty getaway was well-appreciated. I threw my baby into reverse and stepped on the gas, backing out of the lot and into the street where I didn't care if I almost wrecked the people behind me. We were flying down the road and making all sorts of turns, and in response, the police sirens got quieter and the lights dimmed until we couldn't see them anymore. Calm settled over me, thought I still shook from my adrenaline rush, and I smiled, exhaling heavily.

"Alright, we lost 'em," Troy said finally, discarding his cigarette out of the window, "Just drop me an' Julius off at the church," which actually wasn't more than a block away. We got there in about a minute.

When the vehicle stopped, my passengers made the move to leave the car, but Julius stayed behind at my window a little longer to say, "We did it," A big, white smile spreading across his dark face, "The row is ours again. Don't think I'm finished with you yet, though. I'm holding a meetin', come on in."

I nodded and followed them inside to where everyone was assembling. I saw Gat there, Dex, Troy was obviously there too, and a few other gang members who weren't really significant in terms of rank, among them Antonio, who I stood beside.

I greeted him and we chatted in hushed tones for a minute or so until Julius lifted up his arms, calling for the entire room to settle down and listen. Once all was quiet, he started on his speech, which I have to say, was better than anything I could have done off of the top of my head or even prepared in high school.

"Listen up people," He started, "We got some serious shit to discuss. Yeah, we cleared out the Row. You think for a second that's gonna stop 'em? We gotta wipe all these motherfuckers out 'cause they're gonna keep comin' and they ain't gonna be happy. It ain't gonna be settled 'till the Carnales, the Vice Kings, and the Rollerz ain't nothing but a memory."

He pointed out in the crowd and called out one of the lieutenants, "Dex, you got the Carnales. Ever since they hooked up with the Colombians, it's like they own this town, and with all that Drug money rollin' in, we can't compete. Be smart how you move against 'em. The Lopez Family's been runnin' that gang for thirty years. There's a reason they're still around."

"Got it," Dex said, nodding his head deep without a single one of his short dreads moving from its place where they sat bunched up over that purple visor.

Julius didn't spare a moment before moving on, pointing to Troy, "You dealin' with the Vice Kings."

Instead of nodding the affirmative like Dex, however, Troy shook his head, an ember from his fresh cigarette about to fall off to the ground, "Not a chance," He said, defying his superior who lashed out in annoyance.

"Fuck you say?" Julius demanded, obviously fuming. I almost shrank where I stood, though since Julius' fury wasn't directed at myself, I had no reason to do anything but watch.

"Anyone but them," was the reply, not requested, but demanded of Julius to give him. I sort of feared for what might happen to him now that he openly disobeyed Julius, but seeing as how he was regarded as pretty high up in Julius' head, nothing serious might go on.

The leader nodded after a moment, softening both his expression and his tone, "You scared of goin' against Benjamin King?" He asked. Who?

Johnny, right across from me where I stood in the back of the small crowd that had formed spoke up, stepping forward in a fully animated manner.

"Man, fuck that," He said, his bleached tips not swaying an inch as he bustled his way on up to the front, brazenly stating, "I'll take King out."

Julius waved him off and told him, "Johnny, it's not that simple."

"Bullets still kill motherfuckers, right? Doesn't get much simpler than that," and I sort of had to agree with the trigger-happy psychopath.

Julius' gaze fell from Johnny, to Dex, then back to Johnny, and back to Dex finally. "Keep an eye on ya boy," settled it for the boss.

"I don't need a fuckin' babysitter, Julius!" He complained, but if you want my opinion, yeah, he did. He got too much of a boner from shooting his gun for me to really trust he wouldn't act like a madman if left alone.

The boss only reaffirmed his previous statement, a little more firmly this time.

Dex nodded and looked up to the meeting holder, "So who's got the Rollerz?"

"I do," came the reply, but the voice was far too feminine for Julius to have even attempted. Footsteps echoed through the high arches of the cathedral and my eyes searched for whoever had spoken, seeing the woman come in from the left.

She dressed like a Roller, in a black vest that still exposed her midriff and much of her chest and shoulders. On her arm she wore two gold bands, and on her wrist a black sweatband, on the other a watch. Her raven-black hair was up in a bun with a pair of chopsticks through it, and her legs were covered by blue sweatpants identical to Roller blue. By the look of her face, the woman was definitely from Asian decent, but what specifically I couldn't tell. I thought for a moment what this was. Was she a snitch on the Rollerz for the Saints?

"Lin?" Johnny had inadvertently introduced me to her, "What the fuck you wearin' blue for?"

"I asked Lin to hook up with the Rollerz," Julius said, "We don't know much about these fuckers, so I wanted one of us on the inside."

Lin had set on a leisurely pace up to the front, right in front of Julius, where two gang members whom I didn't know were standing. The shortest and chubbiest of the two sporting a purple hoodie and red hair cut close to his skull laughed and said stupidly, "I didn't know the Rollerz pimped hoes."

Her hellish gaze settled on him and chilled me to the bone where I stood, though the sound of the crunch of cartilage and the thud when he hit the floor was satisfying to the ear. I smiled at that, listening to the asshole up front moan and the surrounding members laugh and jeer at him.

"Any other comments?" She asked calmly, reassuming the nonchalant demeanor she had wielded when she made her entrance.

"Yeah. When you punch, don't throw your shoulder so much."

"Shut up, Johnny," She sounded a little more than a little annoyed when he spoke up. Johnny just put his hands up in defense and shrugged.

When all was quiet once more, Julius started to finish up, directing his last comment to me and the rest of the gang. "Once we're done here, go talk to one of these guys. They'll have somethin' for you to do. It's our time now, so let's get this shit started."

The crowd dispersed, everyone going their separate ways and leaving me to find my car and find my apartment. After that adrenaline high, I felt exhausted and desperately needed a good, long sleep. My eyelids were heavy as stone when I got in my car that I barely had enough hours of consciousness left to make it to the 24-hour drug store for basic hygiene items before I made it to my new home.

This place was a shitty part of town. The slums, even. When I walked down the short staircase into my hobbit-hole of an apartment, the heavy red door I unlocked was barely attached to its hinges and rusted a good amount to make me feel unsafe when the thought of someone able to kick it down crossed my mind. The outside of my home smelt like piss and garbage, probably coming off of the other residents around here. The inside, however, was a little better. It was bare save for a worn-out loveseat and a mattress with no blankets aside from all of the built-in stuff, like kitchen. The bathroom in the far corner was small, but it would do for one person. Everything was an off-white color. The linoleum that was the kitchen floor and the bathroom floor was peeled up and chipping, the carpet covering both the floor in the living room and the corner where my bed was only remained pure white in corners where lamps and tabled must have been set down. Other than the aged flooring and paint chipping off of the walls, the place was clean and smelled like pine-sol.

All of this, however, I looked over again in the morning after I slept from eleven PM to eight AM, rising like a zombie to shower and try to make myself look and smell presentable to the public. When my hair was still damp, I got into my car and took care of breakfast at a coffee house, ravenously shoving food down my throat since I hadn't eaten in a while. God, I was hungry.

When my mouth was full, my phone rang and I answered, the caller immediately spoke up on the other end. "Sup," he greeted, "It's Dex… takin' apart the Carnales isn't gonna be easy, so whenever you're ready hit me up at the church," and the line was cut off without another word.

I finished breakfast quickly, eating as I flew out of the door and chugged my coffee on the way there. Why I was in such a hurry, I had no idea. I suppose I really didn't have anything better to do. During my drive, I got another call, this time from Gat, as I took a second to read on the caller ID.

"Hey man, it's Gat," His tone rang mischievous even before he started getting off his point, "If you think clearin' out the Row was fun, meet me at the church… You're gonna love what I got planned for the Vice Kings." Again, the line was cut off. These people weren't much for conversation or goodbyes, were they?

Just across the street from the church, I stopped at friendly fire to pick up more bullets for my pistols, buying as much as I could without eating through my food budget. As if on cue when I was walking out of the store, I received a third call which I again answered quickly.

Lin's voice rang through on the other end as I had half-expected, and I made a mental note to do as I was told soon. I was to meet her at the arena parking lot. How much of this was I going to get done today? Probably not all of it.

I crossed the street to the church and pushed my way through the heavy double doors. Gat was closer to me, so I went to go see him first.


	4. Chapter 4

When I entered Johnny's 'office,' he sat with his feet propped up on the desk. Accompanying the same baggy purple button-down and white tank underneath that he'd been wearing for the past two days was a smirk and the same stupid haircut and glasses. I'm one to talk, though. I still had on that plaid shirt and pair of shorts Antonio had thrown at me in Sloppy Seconds. Dex was in the corner behind the desk, right beside Johnny, representing the picture of all that was serious. Behind them, the wall was plastered with posters of a local celebrity who had gotten pretty famous nationally in the past two years. Aisha was especially known for her voice with her looks being a nice perk, and while my musical tastes leaned toward classic eighties, I had to admit she did make vulgarity sound beautiful. I hadn't pegged Johnny for a fan for that type of music—pop, or whatever you call it, I mean. But I didn't know Gat well enough to make accurate assumptions.

"Take a seat, man," he told me as he removed his feet from the surface of the desk. I obeyed and took it quietly, waiting patiently for him or Dex to start. When I did sit, Johnny pointed at me with his chin and observed me over the rectangular frames in his glasses.

"So, you're Julius' new girl, huh?" He asked, giving me the impression that he hadn't remembered canonizing me, "You don't look like much. Then again, I don't look like I got an eight-inch cock so I guess we're both full of surprises," I forced myself not to raise a brow at this cocky bastard. He continued casually, without as much as a snicker, "The Vice Kings are named after one guy: Benjamin King. That shit don't happen unless you're a professional or a badass, and in King's case, he's both."

Johnny's phone went off and he took a moment, urging me to be patient as he answered the call. He sounded pleased to hear the person on the other end, a smile on his face and in his voice, though his wording threw me off.

"Aisha, what a pleasant fucking surprise," now that, I raised a brow at, but not so much as I did when Johnny's smirk melted away, "Whoa, whoa, slow down," He urged her, leaning forward in his seat just slightly. I sat back and listened to this half of the conversation. Johnny pulled his phone away from his ear in pain, and I could hear the voice on the other end though the language was still indiscernible, "Okay, that's not slower, that's faster. Shit, where's she headed? Don't worry, I got this." I watched as Gat grew more excited the father their frantic conversation progressed and my blood rushed through my veins at the prospect of something exciting happening.

"What's up?" Dex demanded albeit casually, although he had removed himself from his place against the wall.

"Some motherfuckers just grabbed Aisha's sister right off the street."

"Shit man," Dex shook his head, "That's the sixth girl this month. We know who's doin' this?" My gaze switched alternately between the speakers.

Gat stood up to affirm this, "The Vice Kings."

"No way, man, kidnappin' ain't King's style."

"Well maybe that slut Tanya's goin' behind King's back," he replied matter-of-factly. My eyes glassed over as unfamiliar names crossed through the conversation, "Don't know. Don't fuckin' care. Aisha said they were drivin' a yellow sedan," He pointed to me and finally gave his orders, "Tail those bitches back to wherever they go and get those girls back."

I quickly made my leave, rushing to my car and following the way to the street name I'd been given seconds before I went through the door. Time was of the essence, so of course I stepped on the gas. The yellow sedan was easy to spot because it was the only other car on the road aside from my own that was speeding its way through traffic. I followed it, but made sure to keep at a safe distance so as not to me noticed and cause harm to come to myself or the girl beside the driver in the car.

I followed them to an abandoned storage facility in the slums, and parked my car a healthy distance from the entrance, watching from the safety of proximity as the driver hastily removed himself from his car and forced the girl from the passenger's seat. When they escaped through a doorway, I took my twin pistols out of their place in the waist of my shorts and made a run for the door, kicking it open with all of the strength in my right leg.

The guy from the car was in the corner and I reacted quickly, something I was able to do thanks to my adrenaline rush. Right in the throat, behind his yellow bandana was where my bullet caught. I heard him choke to death, but had little time to appreciate my newfound skill. I crouched down and hid behind the various cargo boxes holding what I believed was drugs if not what the labels read. There were six of them standing around, exposed, and I aimed towards the group, but held the majority of my body behind my hiding place to fire into it blindly. Three of them at most were too slow to find a hiding place, leaving the other three to battle it out with, popping out of my spot every few seconds to fire. I would say it took me a good half-hour or more to kill them all since for ten minutes I must have been hiding behind my box, afraid to stick out my neck. How I got out of there unscathed was beyond my comprehension, but I thanked God or whoever was responsible for my survival that they should be so good to me.

I followed the storage room to another towards the back, and at the back of that room was a boarded up window and a heavy metal door. Through the cracks left exposed in the window when I got close, I could make out a few figures, but not many details in the dark. I roughed up the door for a test until a muffle voice from the other end responded to my force.

"The guy with the key went to Tee N' Ay!" she said, affirming that this was the room I needed to get into to save the girls. Tee N' Ay was a sleazy gentleman's club—you know, a strip club or a titty bar if you wanna go that route. I nodded quietly, not saying a word as I turned on my heel to run for my car.

Tee N' Ay wasn't more than a block away. When I entered, I kicked down a back door which leads me into the back stage, and then the stage. The inside of the club was a mixture of rouge and rose colors, the big neon lights in the shape of the dangers glowed bright pink, and the lights lining the stage were also a pink hue. Inside there were three vice kings, two grunts and the pimp who was relatively easy to spot. He wore an obnoxious yellow fedora and one of those stupid, long yellow coats and platform shoes. He was definitely the pimp.

I may have wounded some innocents, but I didn't have much time to care if I did at all. Eight bullets divided unequally between the three of them were all it took, but I'm sure a random guy got in the way of one of them. After the fight, I kicked the pimp's body over with my foot and searched his body for the key, since he looked like the one most likely to possess it. He had something like that, but I did make sure to search the other guys too—it didn't hurt to be double sure, and it also didn't hurt to add the contents of their wallets to my own either. They weren't going to need it in Hell.

I rushed back to the storage room, almost not stopping the car fully when I got out. Time was still of the essence since more VK could be on their way as I was unlocking the door. I had no choice but to spare a moment to face the girls' gratitude, and there were three of them in total. After hugs and thank you's I rushed them to my car, aware of the sound of screeching wheels and roaring engines coming up close. With our heads down, I made my getaway, but thankfully the girls knew what to do with the bodies they'd seen on the inside, because one of them had picked up a pistol and served as backup during our getaway. I ignored most of the driving laws as we headed to the church, because there were at least two cars full of people wearing piss color on our tail. By the time we did reach the church, we had taken care of them both. Still on my adrenaline high, my gas pedal did not leave the floor until I was in the church lot.

"Thanks again, honey," one of them said, and I got a big hug from behind and a friendly kiss on the cheek out of gratitude from them. I smiled in response, too excited to say anything.

I got out of my car a minute or so after they had, and went to go see Johnny again after I had taken lunch. When I walked in about two hours after my mid-morning adventure, however, he wasn't alone and I wasn't talking about Dex. She had dramatic curves throughout her body which made my own lack thereof bring about a little self-consciousness. Of course if I gained some body fat and muscle, I might be a little hotter. At least my boobs weren't altogether disappointing. Her skin was an even tone of chocolate, even where her midriff stayed exposed. Compared to myself, I'm whiter on my belly than anywhere else since I never wear anything that's shorter than down to my waist. Her ebony hair ran down her back in a multitude of thick braids which were all stuffed under a purple baseball cap. I hadn't made the connection until now—wearing her short, purple sports coat and tube-top, I could have guessed that Aisha was connected with the Saints somehow—and I would be correct.

The heels of her boots clicked on the stone floor as she approached Gat, her giant silver hoops hanging in her ears bouncing as she moved forward.

"God," she said to him, "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

Gat leaned comfortably back in his seat as Aisha sat down, making a face, "Well, not all of us have a couple million dollars to make changes."

Waving that away, she delved into the argument, "It's always the same shit with you!"

"Oh! Here we go again," he raised his hands up exasperated, and in an animated fashion he was ready to fight verbally.

"What did you want me to do, Johnny? Did you expect me not to take my shot?"

"No. I expected you to remember where you came from."

Aisha hit the desk with her fist and shot up from her seat, "Oh, fuck you, Johnny!"

Gat stood up too, and I watched as he went on a fumed rant, waving his hands about angrily as he spoke and pacing back and forth behind the desk, "Fuck me? Fuck you! You're the one who ran off to be famous. The only time you ever remember who we are is when you want something."

"My sister was kidnapped," she shot at him, and I stood quietly where I was in the background, trying to blend into my surroundings until the argument was over.

"And I brought her back, didn't I?"

"No," She said, her head swiveling around for her brown eyes to search the room behind her an settle on me, "iShe did/i."

"Bullshit!" Johnny said, shaking his head roughly, "I told her to do it!" And he paused for a moment to glance at me and utter with a wave, "No offense."

I shrugged. I didn't much care whether I could take the credit or not.

Aisha pushed the conversation onward and I listened, "Look. If you're gonna help me, then help me. But don't you dare try to hold it over me."

"Fine," Johnny said.

"Fine."

"Fine!"

After a moment of silence they both sat down and Gat waved at the seat beside Aisha, gesturing for me to sit down.

"Relax, man," he said, "I'd like you to meet Saint's Row's claim to fame. This… is Aisha. And tonight we're gonna kill her."

I furrowed my brow and looked to the woman next to me for clarification. She just rolled her eyes and shook her head and said, "He's being melodramatic. See, I'm signed with Kingdom Come Records."

"And it's no secret that the label is owned by the Vice Kings."

I flicked my eyes back and forth between the two as they explained. Aisha seemed to know more than Johnny could say, so I listened to her, "But the real deal is that once you're in, you can't get out. They rip you off left and right, and they extort you to stay signed. I've talked to Johnny and he says you might be willing to help me."

I raised my brows, but hadn't time to say anything about it before Johnny cut in, "Now check it out. Eesh has a recording session in a few minutes. That's when we make her disappear and give the Vice Kings a big 'fuck you' while we're at it. I want you to take Aisha to her session, but on the way take your ride to the chop shop to have it loaded up with C4. Park the car at the studio and get the hell outta there," his eyes flicked over to Aisha and I worried about what car I would take, because I had fallen in love with my Dodge. I'm sure there was a piece of shit around here I could borrow. "Eesh," He continued, "Make sure someone sees you before you jump out."

She sighed and smiled, murmuring, "Johnny, I really appreciate-."

"Whatever," He interrupted, leaning back and propping his feet up on the desk, "I was gonna blow that place up anyway."

Aisha and I took our leave and she eased me of my burden about the car by jingling the keys to her own. She tossed them to me and directed us both to the lovely, sleek vehicle. It was a shame Aisha's car would have to be blown up, it was really a beauty, with its gold rims and nice, shiny wax.

Our first stop was the garage, but she told me to take my time, so for once I obeyed the driving laws and didn't press the gas to the floor. On the way there, Aisha tried making conversation.

"Are you new?" She asked, "I don't remember you hanging around the Row."

I shrugged and kept my eyes on the road, replying shortly with a, "Sorta."

She nodded as we entered the parking lot for the garage where I would have her car stocked with all sorts of explosive goodies. As she stumbled over her next question she seemed as uncomfortable to ask it as I was to answer, "So… does Johnny talk about me at all?" I understood now that the argument had misled me to believe that she and Gat were on rather ill terms… if they really were, she wouldn't have been asking.

I shrugged again, this time more uncomfortably.

"So, uh, you don't talk much do you?"

I shook my head, "Not much… but I'm not really comfortable sticking my nose in other people's relationships." I didn't want to offend her, of course, I just wasn't too keen on this sort of thing. It made me feel like a highschooler, and I certainly wasn't someone who I would trust to handle anything concerning romantic relationships.

"Why is that?" She asked, innocently unaware of what she was trying to delve into.

I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it, and opened it again. Was I comfortable with sharing my rather embarrassing experience with someone I barely knew? Not really. Was there any harm in telling Aisha? Probably not. She seemed pretty mellow from what little I've already seen.

"Oh," she said when she saw me struggle, "Let me guess, you're not lucky with this sort of thing yourself?"

"Not a bit."

"Okay, I get it," and she immediately dropped the subject. I was beginning to really like her.

We drove into one of the garage doors where it took only twenty minutes for the guys inside to do as Johnny had told them to do for us. But the thing was that we both had a time limit for this stuff to go off—fifteen minutes, to be exact. To top it off, this stuff was sensitive as hell so if we hit anything there was a chance this shit might trigger and blow us to bits before we get there. Oh, and have I mentioned Aisha's number one fan? This crazed asshole was immediately recognized in his creepy-ass raper van by Aisha, who raised her brows and told me to speed it up. She didn't need to tell me twice because the first thing he did was ram us. My road rage kicked in and I flipped him the bird, coming out of my shell to scream obscenities at him.

I handed Aisha one of my pistols and took my other in my left hand and told her to shoot at that loser. He followed us close behind as I flew down the road, too nervous at first to stick my head out of the window and fire a good aimed shot at his windshield.

"His window isn't even breaking!" She yelled at me.

"Well, keep shooting at it!"

I floored it, honestly, I did. I aimed for the highway and floored it, even if cars were coming at me from the opposite direction in the lane I had chosen in my haste.

"We're gonna die!" Aisha screamed as a four-door sedan zoomed past us. When there were finally no obstacles separating us from the correct lane, I swerved and hopped in, speeding past all of the cars I could on our way to the studio, ignoring Aisha's plea's to slow down. I fully intended not to hit a damn thing.

I came to a screeching stop at Kingdom Come Records and Aisha nearly kissed the ground when she stumbled out of the car. Seeing as how there were only three minutes left on the clock, though, she barely had time to do so. Quickly, her white boots clicked on the pavement as she told me again to make myself scarce to avoid being blown to hell along with this place. I obeyed and put a good distance between me and the building for the next three minutes. The sound of the blast was still loud from my place down the street and I prayed Aisha was okay.

It was nearing seven PM, about five hours after Kingdom Come when I got a call from Gat, telling me to meet him at Freckle Bitch's. Since nothing seemed wrong, I assumed Aisha had gotten out safely. I smiled to myself and was assured of this when I arrived, surprised to find Aisha in public after today, even if she was wearing a big hat and huge sunglasses to obscure her identity.

"I know you're s'posed to be dead an' all," I heard Johnny start when I approached, hearing the muffle in his voice that told me he was talking with his mouth full, "But do you have to look this pissed?"

She had her arms crossed, but now she leaned across the table, exasperated, "Johnny!you said you'd take me out to dinner."

"And here we are."

"At Freckle Bitch's?"

"Where else would we go?" I suppressed a laugh.

"Someplace good?" She quipped, crossing her arms again, "Why couldn't you have taken me to Mikano's?" The name rang a bell. It was a pricey sushi bar where undoubtedly Aisha was well known."

"Aisha, it's not like-. Hey what's up?" I'd approached the whole way now, and interrupted their conversation. Gat greeted me with a fist bump and graciously mumbled at my impeccable sense of timing.

Fed up Aisha left us to our business as she went off to deal with whatever matter she had decided to preoccupy herself with as Gat and I discussed whatever it was he had for me next.

"Whatever," Gat said, "She don't appreciate fine dining," This time, I did laugh, but Gat didn't give me much time to appreciate this, "Listen. I've been talkin' to Eesh's sister and she said that Tanya's been fuckin' people in every sense of the word," I blinked at the name Tanya since I still hadn't been explained to who that was. Someone important to the VK, obviously. Connected to Aisha's sister, it must be someone to deal with hookers and pimps.

"Not only has she been blowin' King's bodyguard, Big Tony, but she's fuckin' Warren Williams, their numbers guy, whenever Tony ain't lookin'," she and Danny would get along great, "Between Tony and Warren, the only guy she isn't leading around by their cock is King. So I'm thinkin', we put the hurt on Tanya, we're fuckin' up the Vice Kings," Gat started to draw on the table with his finger to help give me a slight visual, "She's got an operation in Prawn Court, that's where we'll start. Roll in there and put the murder on anyone you see, customers included. Who wants to die for a blow job, right?" He chuckled, and warned, "But when you go for Tanya, be careful. She's probably got some muscle in there.

I nodded and turned away, having my orders, but Gat called me back, picking up the carton of French fries Aisha hadn't touched, tossing them to me.

"She ain't gonna eat 'em, so you go ahead," and I smiled, realizing just how starving I was. Speaking of starving, my legs tingled from all of the excitement today, like a lasting adrenal high. God, I needed action, but my eyes told me otherwise when I blinked. I needed sleep, not even twelve hours after waking in the morning. This Prawn court thing could wait until tomorrow night anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

I tried to wait to do the job Johnny had given me, but once I sat in the driver's seat of my bootlegger, my eyes shot open and I called Antonio, who rushed to my location after getting the call. He helped himself into the passenger's seat and didn't bother to buckle up even after I had stepped on the gas and the car lurched forward.

"Hey, Chica," he greeted me, "So, what we doin'?"

"Killing some hookers," I said casually, drawing a laugh out him.

"Down in Prawn Court where that VK bitch has got 'em?" I guess Gat hadn't been the only one who noticed Tanya's place of business. I nodded and sped there, taking my SMG from the backseat and pointing it out of the window to fire a spray of bullets at the first whore I saw. She and her customer never saw me coming with my drive-by, but I had alerted the rest of them to my presence.

I circled the block plenty of times, but Tony was the first to notice the second set and we both fired in their direction, becoming assailants as the customer sped away after their hooker had fallen inside their car through the open window, dead. I wasn't bothered when she was dragged along a little ways, but I did swerve out of the way so I didn't flatten her skull with my car—I'm not a complete psychopath, you know.

Six bodies were probably enough, so I circled once more, spotting a yellow sedan and a bitch wearing too many sequins. As soon as they saw us with their guns out, though, the sedan sped off. I sped up, making the Hooker road kill on my way so as to not waste more bullets. Tony kept firing ahead of us, flattening the wheel of the VK car we were after. A round of bullets later, the car swerved off of the road and crashed itself into a building, telling us that the driver was pretty dead.

I slowed down and put away my weapon, and Antonio did the same, visibly proud of himself and our work here. Gat called ten minutes later and I was able to conclude that word traveled around pretty fast in this line of work.

"So much for Tanya's hired help," he said, "Now get over to the whorehouse and make that bitch eat a bullet." The line cut off and I nodded to myself.

"You ever been to a brothel?" I asked Tony, and he furrowed his brow, glancing at me from the side.

"The fuck kinda person you think I am? I never touched a ho in my life, I like the bitches who can keep it clean."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Me neither, but it looks like we're going on a field-trip if you're still up for it."

He thought for a long minute, consideration clearly crossing the features of his face before he finally nodded, "Yeah. Why the fuck not? It's not like we're doin' anything much but killin' the bitches, right?"

I floored it once more and headed a few blocks down to Rebedeaux where I had heard a while back was where the brothel was located. Not that I paid much attention to where hookers live on purpose.

It was a pretty run-down looking crack house sort of building with graffiti on the outside and dead plants in the garden boxes. It gave me the impression that it was abandoned, but the lights on the inside told me otherwise.

There were four VK's outside of the building towards the back, which Tony and I mowed down quickly using machine guns. Man, was I getting to love this weapon. I fired blindly on the inside after kicking open the door, and Tony was brave enough to stick his head around the wall to see if it was clear. We had dropped three people on the inside already, and now we rushed in, guns at the ready to throw everyone down. Another VK came from out of the archway leading into the main hall, and took me by surprise—and all of my remaining ammo in my SMG. The trigger clicked, but nothing. To my horror, I had realized I'd only bought ammo for my pistols last time I made a trip to friendly fire, and this motherfucker was cocking his shotgun for me.

My heart raced and I prepared to die, but Tony came in behind me with his own gun, tearing up my would-be killer's chest with it. I couldn't hear for another moment or so, the blood was rushing through my brains so fast, and I felt for a moment like I couldn't breathe. Good god—I could be dead right now.

"What're you standing around for?" Tony asked as I had not moved from my spot, "C'mon, we got motherfuckers to kill."

Calling me to get a grip on my numbed senses, I picked up the shotgun the guy had in front of me, and I searched his body for more rounds—thankfully he had them, and I cocked it, hearing the satisfying click of the weapon. I was ready to go, but if I stayed still longer, I might shake so much I wouldn't be able to stand.

I was extra cautious to pick a good hiding place when the VK were around, and I made sure to blast them all to Hell as quickly as possible. Tony was a little more brave than I was. We mowed down about fifteen guys on the inside of that building, and if we included the hookers killed, the body count would be only a little less than double that since most were smart enough to stay out of the way.

"Yo, I think we cleared the place out," Tony said, giving a satisfied look around when all was quiet in the main hall, "Now let's get outta here."

"The floor is sticky," I said, disgust written all over my face as I had to almost peel my sneakers off of the floor. I hoped it was only from the lack of cleaning general grime and not something dirty.

"I'm gonna fucking puke if we stay in here longer, c'mon, Chica," And I gladly followed after him.

Benjamin King held a meeting in his office at the large conference table. Of course, he had been seated at the end, and the spots at his left and right were occupied by Warren Williams and Big Tony respectively. King's elbows were propped up on the shiny surface, and not a speck of dust was on it to be wiped off by his black Armani suit jacket. His gold dress shirt was as crisp and clean as the straight-black tie he wore with it, and the same color as his gold earring in his left ear. On his left, Warren matched the reverse of King's suit uniformly. This sort of professionalism was not only essential, but appreciated by Mr. King.

"How much is the studio incident gonna set us back?" His deep voice rumbled in a quiet, but clearly audible tone.

Warren stuttered at 'the incident' phrase and repeated it as such, "I'm sorry. I thought some muthafuckas blew up my shit. I didn't realize it ain't no thang," he passively aggressively started to rant. King calmly demanded his answer without gracing Warren's complaint with attention, to which the much younger man sighed and replied finally, "Including the loss of revenue from Aisha's death… I'd say we're talkin' millions."

King nodded, "Okay. We got a few contractors that owe us, so convince them to hook us up. That takes care of building. As for Aisha, throw together some memorial box set. People eat that shit up. That should recoup some of our losses. Now how's Tanya's side of things?" He had turned to Anthony for this question, and the man shook his head, his thick gold chain not moving an inch as his big head moved.

"Grip is short, Mr. King," his voice was gravel.

"I'm not happy, Anthony," Replied his boss, "You said she could handle it."

"It's not her fault, Mr. King," he explained, "The Saints have been fuckin' with her."

Almost before Anthony could finish his sentence, Warren stood up and roughly set his expensive dress shoe on the carpet and shouted, "That's what I'm talkin' about! Are you gonna let those bitches disrespect us?"

Mr. King put his hands up in the air and stared straight down the middle of the conference table, "Everybody calm the fuck down," He said, "We ain't gonna start a war every time some motherfuckers act hard."

"We gotta talk about the Saints," a new voice interrupted, coming from the woman who entered dressed in nothing more than a bright white skirt, knee-high boots to match, and a bra, leaving much of her skin exposed which was nearly the same color as her skin. Her dark hair was bleached in the front and cut in a bob to reveal her large gold hoops, and her brown eyes were caked heavily in makeup.

"Thank you," Warren said, satisfied enough to reclaim his seat. Tanya trekked around the table to make herself comfortable in the lap of Big Tony.

"Hey baby," she greeted him, but as soon as she was settled, business was resumed, "They've taken Prawn Court," she said.

"How did this happen?" demanded Mr. King.

"How the fuck you think it happened?" Warren interrupted again, his tone utterly void of respect, "Look, we need to get together and just-," But Mr. King stood to counter his interruption.

"What we need is for you to ishut the fuck up/i you i feel/i me?"

"Yeah…" Warren sighed, wounded.

"What?" King's tone rang dangerously, warning the other room's occupants that a lack of the respect that their employer did so deserve was not to be tolerated here.

Quietly, now, he replied, "Yes, Mr. King." This satisfied his boss enough for him to sit back down.

Once again, his cool composure was regained, and he folded his hands once more over the table, with his elbows propped up on it, his voice calm, "I'll have Monroe put some pressure on the Saints," he told them, "While they're distracted, it should be easy to take back what's ours. Everything else is business as usual, understand?" He didn't wait for them to respond before closing the meeting.

I woke early in the morning due to my inability to get to sleep in the first place after almost being blown away last night, but mostly because my phone had waked me up. I don't know if I was scared, thrilled, both, or what. Ultimately, it was decided that I would see what Johnny had to say to me after calling so early.

"I don't know if it's quota time or what, but the cops are leaning hard on us. Shit's too hot right now, I want you to get off the street," at least he cared, "Wait, hold on a second," he told me, before he went to a separate conversation on the other end, half of which I could hear. All I knew before Johnny turned back to me was that somebody was a bunch of fucking cocksuckers, "Change of plans. Looks like the VK are trying to get back Tanya's old digs as we speak. Get your ass over there and help our boys, you're the only backup they're getting!"

That was reason enough for me to grab my shotgun and make a run for the car. When I got to Prawn court, the sidewalks were dotted with men and women in purple and yellow, shooting and screaming at one another. One of the faces there, I recognized by chance—Tony. He was about to get blown away by a VK if I hadn't stepped in. I thought of it as repaying him for saving my ass the night before.

"Hey, Chica!" He called when he saw me, "back me up."

"Sure thing," I swung my car door open and relished in the ich-chk/i of my gun. I blasted the next VK I saw, my blood pumping when he fell on the ground at least a foot away from where he had stood.

We piled into the car, a couple of other Saints helping themselves inside into the back. I didn't mind as long as none of them were bleeding all over my seat and could still shoot their guns. I flattened six other VK with my baby, but mostly operated from the safety of my vehicle, firing blasts from the powerful shotgun I'd stolen off of the body of the dead guy last night.

"You know," one of the Saints in the back said, "Don't think I've ever really did this many drive-by's before. I kinda like it."

Yeah, well, me too. Drive-by's are safer. Johnny called me a few minutes later and I answered quickly to hear, "I hope you're not cashed yet. Troy's got a tip that Tanya's setting up shop in the old Sunnyvale Police Station. I talked to Julius and he gave me the okay to head in with a crew. I'm headin' back to the church to get strapped. Come over when you're ready, but don't wait too long, we got some murderin' to do."

The Saints in the back all got out once we were safe at the church and went their separate ways, although Tony kept beside me as I headed into the church to meet Gat, who had a nice arrangement of weapons on his desk, ranging from melee to assault.

"Good thing you're here," he said, holding a bat up in the air and giving it a few test swings, "I was about to leave without you," He stopped and smiled, putting down his bat, "I don't think I'm feelin' that today… this is always the hardest part for me, you know?" I didn't, but suppose I did, I guess there is quite a variety of killing machines to use, "Balancin' stoppin' power with personal enjoyment," He rifles through his collection of pistols and pocket knives, pocketing one or two every now and then before the very interested, "Oooh" as he spotted something good. "Yeah, I'm feelin' this," he said, picking up a heavy sawed-off shotgun, "It ain't gonna be easy cllearin all of them VK's outta the station, so I told my crew to meet us there. Now let's ride."

Tony had stood watching in silence as the whole weapons ordeal went on, which surprised me since he usually had a lot to say. The three of us made it back to the car, and Tony surprised me once more by immediately taking the back seat as opposed to his preferred shot-gun seat. I stayed quiet of course, as Johnny directed me to the Station.

"Tanya lucked out the last time you took out her brothel… this time, the bitch is gonna get what's comin' to her," Johnny said, but no one replied. Actually, the two of us also in the car pretty much stayed quiet as Gat went on his violent ramblings. Don't get me wrong, I was pretty interested in them, but I really couldn't say I had a solid idea of who any of these people we were killing were or what their roles were in the gang.

"I got a good feelin' about this," Gat said when we were close to the station. I feel it could be a nice bonding experience," and he drew both a laugh from himself and from me. Nothing makes friendships like shooting up a bunch of VK's.

They were swarmed on the outside when we got there, and I kept my head down, grabbing one of my pistols and firing on the inside as I struggled to find my shotgun. Johnny, of course had gotten out of the car and started to eat through their forces already. Between the three of us this shit was a cakewalk, although I can't say I'd mowed down this many people before now.

Gat took the initiative and kicked open the door to the station before I was even near it, so I rushed to join him in the hall where he was already blowing away a couple of VK on the inside. Just around the corner after he'd cleared out this hall was the main entrance, and among the VK was a scantily-clad woman in white who rushed out to safety. Assuming this was Tanya, I made it a point to try and kill her. We gave chase, fighting our way through the maze that was the abandoned police station, shedding blood and making it rain bullets. Always I stayed behind Johnny, but mostly because he hadn't given me a chance to take the initiative.

We followed Tanya to the stairwell where four VK were waiting. Both me and Gat back out of the doorway for cover, Tony following suit as we took turns removing ourselves from cover to shoot. The gray walls on the inside had a fresh coat of red once we could gain safe passage through to climb the stairs.

The halls here were dotted with boys in yellow, so we took to hiding behind furniture to avoid being seen before we shot them down. I bet Tanya was just about shitting herself at the sounds of all their screams. I had to say though; nobody made me feel inadequate in murdering like Gat did. He took out at least double what Tony and I were getting.

We came to a standstill with Tanya facing the window with nowhere to go. She turned her fiery gaze towards us, but I could hardly focus on it when pain exploded on the back of my head and I landed on the floor with "Oof."

Where was Antonio at this point? I don't know. Right now it was just me, and Johnny, and Tanya, oh yeah, and Big Tony who had introduced the butt of his gun to my skull. The world seemed dark and I grew extremely tired.

I was only out for a few seconds, but managed to lay still long enough to listen to the following conversation which was pretty civil considering who was talking.

"How 'bout you drop the gun, honey?" Tanya's fake honeyed voice demanded of Johnny Gat, who ignored her harshly, cocking his shotgun and aiming it at the ready.

Big Tony was of course equipped with his own to aim at Gat's head, "If I were you," He warned, "I'd listen to the lady."

Gat turned his head to look at the man behind him, but only to brazenly shoot, "Well of course you would, you bein' her bitch," and without any more consideration, he turned back around to resume his aim at Tanya.

"Watch your fucking mouth!" The much bigger man demanded, cocking his own shotgun.

Seeming to have reconsidered this, Johnny dropped his gun and put up his hands to say casually, "Hey, no reason to be hostile."

Now that Gat was submissive, Tony searched him for other weapons, removing the pistol from his pants and tossing it to Tanya, who caught it, cocked it, and aimed it.

"You packin' anything else?" She asked.

Johnny shrugged, "Just some rubbers. I was hopin' to get some of William's sloppy seconds," He had scant time to laugh at his own joke before Tony brought the barrel of his gun down on Johnny, who fell on the floor beside me where I still pretended to be knocked out, "Guess I hit a nerve," he said, gritting his teeth.

"Do yourself a favor," Tony ordered, "Stay down and shut the fuck up. You Third Street motherfuckers think you so fuckin' smart, well check this out: We ain't impressed. And the only reason you got as far as you did was 'cause King let you. And we led you right to where we wanted you and now the police gonna finish your ass just the way we planned."

"Well," Johnny said, looking up from his place on the floor, "That explains how your bitch lost Prawn Court."

"Are you gonna let him talk about me like that?" Tanya demanded, not making a move to shoot her own gun.

"Don't worry baby, I got this."

"Yeah, Tanya, shut the fuck up," Gat said, getting to his feet to face Tony.

"I thought I told you to be quiet!"

"Well, I got shitty hearing," he said, and the blast came soon after it. I lay frozen on the floor and for a split second I feared that Gat was dead, but lucky for us, he screamed loud enough to assure me that he was still very much alive.

"Now you got a shitty leg," Tony pressed, and I almost would have thought that was funny if it were anyone but the Saints and the VK.

I heard the blade pop out and felt the spray of blood on my face as Gat stabbed Tony in the foot, proceeding to struggle to his feet even with his leg all bent out of shape.

"And now so do you," he declared triumphantly, unable to get to his feet all the way, but by this time, Tony was easy for Gat to bring to the floor. Now was my chance, with my head still spinning from the blow, I made a run for it when he waved me away. On my way to the window Tanya had been standing at, I threw a punch at her face, not in danger of getting shot because she was watching with a stunned expression as I got up. She shrieked and stumbled towards the wall, holding her face as I dumped through the window, adrenaline pumping throughout my whole body as I landed on a dumpster and jumped down onto the pavement, not stopping or looking back once.

I ran a full block before getting the call from Julius.

"Hey, playa," He started, "One of Johnny's crew got outta there in time and told me what happened. If the cops are workin' for the Kings, you better get up the street fast. Hurry up and get back to the church… we'll figure out a way to get Johnny back home."

And then was when it dawned on me: that Gat could very well be dead right now. Although I felt sick to my stomach and wanted nothing more to see that the guy—the ifriend/i I had made was still alive, I couldn't for the very reason that it was wisher to get back to the church like Julius had told me to. If I'd done anything, I might fuck up and get Johnny killed if he weren't already dead, and myself.

Where was my car? Surrounded by police, to make matters right now worse. I cursed my luck and made a run for it, cutting through backyards and hopping fences to avoid being seen by the police who were coming through. I'd fallen down a couple of times and scraped my knees, hands, and elbows, but I never stopped to blow on the wound on my run to the church. Needless to say, I got there pretty scratched up, having added to the scratches and cuts I'd received from my action-movie window leap. I arrived out of breath and pushed open the door to the church where Julius was present.

Ben King sat in his conference room, a pleased expression written across his face as he listened to Big Tony on the other end of the line.

"…Trust me, he ain't goin' nowhere."

"Damn good work, Tony," King reassured him, "I'll stop by right after I pay a visit to Hughes," King referred to the mayor by just his surname.

"I'll see you soon, boss," Tony said before King clicked off the line.

In front of the great windows to King's conference room, Warren paced back and forth as the conversation was taking place, his yellow suit shining in the gray glow from late afternoon Stilwater.

"So what do we do now?" He asked, now facing Mr. King.

"We wait," was the simple answer Mr. King had so calmly given him.

This apparently displeased Warren, and he put his hand up in the universal sign for stop, sounding confused more than shocked when he protested, "Oh, hold on, dog. That motherfucker's still out there! The fuck you mean 'we wait?'"

Even when Warren refused to show the respect it had been mutually understood was required to show Mr. King, the leader of the Vice Kings stayed composed and calm while delivering a powerful reminder, "I mean you gonna sit your black ass down and wait 'cause I fuckin' said so… Don't worry 'bout the one that got away. The Five-oh will take care of her."

"Oh, so why you loungin', tres street keeps jackin' us! Great, that's fuckin' brilliant!"

"Slow up, lil' nigga," King ordered, but Warren refused.

"C'mon, King!" he pressed, continuing his pace about the room, "This is some bullshit! Lemme get a crew together. I could roll into the Row and drop all them bitches! I'm tellin' you-."

"No."

"Mister King!"

King stood up, his hands planted firmly on the shiny oak surface of his conference table, his tone ringing dangerous as Warren started to cross a line, "I said 'no.' Don't make me say it a third time… Warren, my man, you got the music scene locked down. I need you to bring in the cheddar, not get shot 'cause you think you got somethin' to prove."

"I can do this!"

He sat back down and shrugged, "Maybe. But we ain't gonna find out. We got the cops bustin' up third Street for us, and we got Julius' Lieutenant tied up in Anthony's condo. Everything is goin' our way right now, so just chill. Your time's gonna come, Warren, but it just ain't happening now… understood?"

For a split second, Warren let that sink in before stepping forward to lift a hand and grab King's, his own tone calmed considerably by now, "Yeah," he replied, "We straight."


	6. Chapter 6

I busted through the door to the church, where nobody looked at me twice for having such cuts and bruises, and pushed past everyone else so I could get where Julius was sitting down with Dex and Aisha. They'd been discussing something before I came in, presumably the plan to get Johnny back.

"Do you really think it'll work?" Aisha asked.

"It has to," Julius assured firmly, spotting me and pointing to a chair, "Sit down, girl," and I obeyed, falling into the seat without ease now that my whole body ached from the run. I was tired, but not so tired that I could fall asleep after all that happened today. I was ready, more ready for anything than I'd ever been to get Johnny back. Lucky for me, Julius said they'd had a way, and I leaned forward in anticipation.

Dex from across Julius' desk also leaned forward in his seat, taking the lead to speak, "The shit Johnny said about Warren and Tanya really got to Tony. Now the only time she's let out of his sight is when she's checking on the rebuilding of the recording studio," and I raised a brow at that. Warren works at the recording studio. Tanya and Warren—oh, whatever.

Julius picked it back up, "Every day that bitch gets driven to the construction site in a limo, then she sneaks off to get her freak on with Warren before she goes back home to Tony. While she's busy suckin' cock, you deal with the chauffer and take his place. When she's done, she'll have you drive her back. Once you're at Tony's, it's all up to you."

I nodded and got up from my seat to walk out, only to be stopped by Aisha who gently touched me on the arm, though spotting my bruises and cuts, she quickly took her hand away like she was afraid I would hurt some more. "Please bring Johnny back safe," she pleaded, but averted her gaze out of embarrassment, "But just don't tell him I was worried."

I smiled at her and nodded more, unable to find any words to interject before I finally did leave, my phone out to call the Saints Tony who didn't answer. Worry washed over me, but I'd have to wait since the life of a footman in the Saints wasn't as heavily weighted at Gat's. For backup, I took along that chubby red-headed guy who had made the comment to Lin about the Rollerz pimping hoes a few days back. He'd at least do me some good in providing backup and a car.

I got in as the passenger and gave him the direction to the recording studio, where he started off obeying the traffic laws. Impatient as I am, I urged him to go faster.

"Speed it up, dickwad, we have to get there ibefore/i her," I said, momentarily coming out of my shell long enough to give the order, to which he didn't reply verbally. Instead he gave me a look of shock, since I'm sure word got around that I wasn't much for talking, and bit his thumb at me. He did do as I had told him though, and we turned out to have an impeccable sense of timing.

Tanya's limo came to a quick stop minutes after we'd arrived, and my new friend and I stayed hidden across the street as she was let out of the back and greeted by a construction worker. They talked for a minute before Tanya was escorted inside by the construction worker, her chauffer left alone to drive around as she 'got her freak on,' as Julius had put it.

I got in our car, forcing the keys from the other guy, who had introduced himself to me as Jimmy, and revved it up to follow closely behind the limousine. When he came to a halt at a stop sign, I kept rolling up further and stopped the car sideways in front of him so the longer vehicle would have difficulty in making a quick getaway. The driver was more confused than anything when I got out and walked around to his window, but frozen in terror when he stared down the barrel of my Vice 9. This was almost too easy, and I felt maybe a little guilty for a split second after I had blown his brains out. Nevertheless, I still took his bloody wet hat and dragged his body out of the vehicle to toss him on the ground. Respect for the dead didn't quite matter as much as it used to matter to me.

I made myself comfortable in the driver's seat, raising the screen up in the back so that Tanya wouldn't be immediately alerted by my presence when she got in the car. I drove around for a minute or so, and returned to the recording studio where she was waiting patiently on the outside, unable to see me and recognize me through the glass. I was glad I wasn't expected to get out and open the door for her, however. The worker there was ready to do it for me, making it easier on me to keep my identity hidden. Unfortunately, though, Tanya was pretty intent on spending all of the time she had to spare away from Tony doing whatever she pleased, so I had no choice but to take her out shopping as she made mindless chatter in the back seat.

No, Tanya, I couldn't give half a shit about Warren calling you Aisha. I don't care that your friends are still wearing last season's heels, whatever the ifuck/i that means. I don't care that you're taking the blame for losing Prawn Court, and if you or your bitch had done a damn thing more to Gat, I will skin you alive using just my fucking fingernails.

I was grinding my teeth in frustration by the time I made the first stop, and lucky again for me as I stopped with screeching wheels outside of Impressions—a pretty ritzy clothing store which was still open at seven thirty PM, Tanya didn't want to dare waste any of her precious time waiting for the door to be opened and closed for her. I was prompted to wait until she was done perusing the inventory of the store inside.

When she came back, a bag in hand, she was probably smiling, though I couldn't see through the screen. "Stop by Friendly Fire," she said, "I'd like to pick something up for Tony."

And the closest was a considerably long drive away, but if I went fast enough, it wouldn't take but five minutes. So I stepped on it, but hopefully not so much as to rouse suspicion in the whore's head. Again, she was pretty intent on not wasting time. While she was inside looking at guns that I'm pretty sure she has not a fucking clue about, I got a call and immediately answered upon seeing it was from Julius.

"Hey playa, we got a problem," great, "Some of Troy's crew didn't hear the plan and decided they were gonna hit Tanya while she was in her Limo. These are our boys. I don't want them getting' hurt," well, obviously, but what the hell am I supposed to do? Julius didn't explain, and I snapped my flip-phone shut as soon as I saw Tanya heading towards the car with a huge assault rifle in her hands, I mean holy fuck.

She set it casually on the seat beside her, telling me now to head back to an address that I was sure Big Tony's condo. I had revved up the engine and started rolling down the street for not even a minute before I heard her shout, "It's the Saints!" and I prayed she wouldn't pick up that big-ass assault rifle she just blew at least a thousand bucks on.

Luckily, she hadn't seemed to think of it, so I was decidedly tasked with losing Troy's crew without killing them as per Julius' orders. I just hope Troy would make this easy for me. I floored it, speeding as much as this car would allow me and took as many turns as its length could make without slowing us down. There was one car that was particularly agile, and its driver was pretty quick with the wheel. Making a sharp turn and cutting through the park would probably throw him off, and from there, I could head to the highway. I did as I had thought, and watched in my mirrors as he attempted to come after me, but the small car couldn't take the soft terrain. That wasn't saying much since the limo struggled with it too, but I managed to avoid spinning out like them and I headed for the road, the exit leading onto the highway just around a corner and down a street.

I surprised myself when I made it there, and sighed happily as I relaxed a little in my seat. Tanya seemed pretty satisfied with my work too. I'm sure if I were the real chauffer, I would appreciate the prospect of a little something extra on my pay, which is what she promised. Now, all I had to do was get to 707 Springfield, which took me a good fifteen minutes or more.

I came to a screeching halt outside of the building, now occupying myself with the possible options I could come up with to free Gat. I decided to wait until Tanya was inside to get out of the car and sneak up to the window to spy. Inside the clear glass, I could see her walk up a winding staircase, giving me the cover to head in the door she had left unlocked.

The house was definitely ten steps up from my shabby little apartment. It was fresh, and though the neutral color pallet matched my humble abode, they were much cleaner and better defined than the hues of brownish-whites in my place. Their modern furniture also topped my 1950's style loveseat that sort of smelled like cat piss if I took a big whiff of it. I didn't spend too much time fussing over how shitty my house was compared to theirs, though, since I had to follow Tanya upstairs. I was willing to bet that was where Johnny was.

She was just about to lock the pink door at the end of the hall up there when I tapped her on the shoulder. Turning around, I bet all she saw was purple, but not my face since I'd given her a better punch than the one I'd given her earlier. It made a pretty satisfying sound and I did a little more than just bruise her cheek this time. I smiled to myself as she lay on the floor out cold, but busied myself with pulling out my pistols in preparation for what was probably up ahead.

The carpet up here was an ugly puke-orange, and I followed it quietly, sticking my head out to peek in a room where a VK was standing near the window. I fired twice into his face and he died with a long shriek out of his lungs. Three others came out from behind a corner I hadn't known existed and I had to hide and fire blindly. I know I got one of them, but adrenaline kicked in and gave me the courage to stick out my neck and look at the assholes as I sent them to Hell.

It took me a while since I had to keep jumping in and out of cover, but I didn't much care as long as Johnny was still alive. When all seemed quiet on the inside, I rushed in, picking up an SMG that a fallen VK had dropped. There, at the window I'd seen the first one at, on the floor I saw the purple shirt and knew it was him. Rushing over, I made a move to pick him up and check that he was alright, but he assured me he was by giving an order.

"Don't worry about me," he said urgently, "Just take that fucker out!"

Fucker? What fucker? I looked around the room and heard the blast from a pistol, only to hear the bullet ricochet off the wall near my head. Immediately I kissed the floor, hiding behind a sofa and putting it between Big Tony, and me, and myself between him and Johnny. I reached up over the back of the sofa and fired blindly for two seconds, sending a spray his way before I got the courage to peek out from the other end. He'd been waiting for me, and took a second to search for me which is when I took my shot and fired.

Shock came over his face first, and his hands fidgeted to find the trigger of his shotgun. I guess having lead in your chest will do that to a guy, make him unable to find something that's right in his hands. He fell to the ground in a big thud and I got up from my hiding place to check and make sure he was dead. When I stood on his wrist of the hand that was on his gun, he winced and moaned, blood staining his pearly whites as he tried to choke out a plea.

"D-don't kill me," he said, sadness and pain evident in his voice as he choked on his own blood.

I stayed quiet and stared down at him for a second or two as he choked and a tear escaped his eye before I callously unleashed a small spray of bullets into his skull. The spray of blood that followed stained my clothes and dotted my skin, but I couldn't be bothered to give half a shit.

I must have stared for a long time, because Gat spoke up and interrupted my train of thought.

"Hey, not to be pushy or nothin'," he'd started out sounding casual, but the last bit that followed, he'd raised his voice, "but how about you iget me outta this bfuckin' chair/bi!?" finishing in an aggressive half-scream

Oh, shit.

I jogged over and spent all my bodily strength lifting it up to its legs before I started to untie the ropes that bound his hands together, listening for the rant he was bound to go on.

"'Bout fuckin' time you got here," he said, sounding annoying more than anything. Of course, I don't think I could have rightfully expected Gat to be particularly grateful since he'd also saved my ass earlier which played a part in his kidnapping. This, I suppose, was returning a favor. Johnny tried to get up but grunted and fell to one knee when his shitty leg failed him. I helped him back to a semi-standing position, but his leg was apparently the least of his concerns as he dangerously murmured the question, "Where's Green?"

I instantly assumed that was Big Tony, and I tossed a glance over at his corpse that was laying still on the floor ten feet away. In a rage, Johnny snatched my second pistol from my bloodied shorts and fired at the body of Anthony Green until it was empty. I did nothing but watch and hold onto Gat's arm in order to keep him standing. When he was finished and the gun clicked to let us know it had no more bullets left to fire, he discarded it by tossing it at Tony.

"That's much better," he said, seemingly more calm now that he had released all of that pent up rage since this morning, "I heard Green say he's got some heavy shit in the back. I'll have some of our boys roll on over and bring the hardware back to the crib."

I nodded and held fast onto Johnny's arm when he started moving forward, bringing it over my shoulder to act as a crutch for him. Tanya was gone when we passed through that hall, but that wasn't of much concern to us now, all we really needed was to get Johnny back to the church.

I found a day's rest necessary for my cuts to scab over and my bruises to heal a little and nobody had bothered me during my day off, so I suppose they were all too busy to notice my absence, or they agreed. I couldn't imagine Johnny going out much after what happened to his leg, but I was just happy that he was alive, and it warmed me to see Aisha excited to see him alive too. I hadn't stayed at the church long enough to go over the details of the rescue though. I had my mind set on a hot shower and a long sleep.

I'd slept most of the day and slept through the night, waking up with a headache that said I had been dead to the world far too long. Of course, I took another shower, but with my earnings from the last couple of jobs, I spent the morning getting myself some much needed essentials for myself and for my apartment. Blankets, pillows, cleaning supplies, general groceries, and plenty of purple clothes were my targets. I'd saved two-thousand dollars to spend, so I had a lot of money to play around with, and this time I went to a huge supermarket to buy clothes that weren't used and still pretty cheap.

After emptying the taxi of my bounty, I busted down my door and put everything away, changing into a pair of purple track pants I'd bought with a white stripe down the side and the drawstring pulled tight, and a grey Stilwater U crew-neck sweater with nothing under it but my clean underwear. Wearing new pants never felt so good. It was here in the middle of the morning that I got a text from Dex about the Carnales. I supposed Julius was allowing the VK a few days of mourning, which set me at unease.

I walked two blocks to the church, satisfied with my choice of clothing as a cool wind picked up and chilled me a little. Needless to say, I was pretty happy to get into the protection offered by the great stone walls of the church.

When I found Dex, he was staring at a city map and I stood there for a second with my hands in my pockets watching him until he turned around.

"Oh, hey," he said with a nod, "Sorry, didn't hear you come in… after all that shit with Johnny, Julius told us to leave you alone for a few days. You came in pretty scraped up before you went to get him, but afterwards you looked spooked. You seem alright now though," He jerked a thumb to the tack board the map was pinned to; "Check this out."

I prepared myself to listen to a long explanation as I observed photos of the Carnales participating in several crimes including stomping a man to death, drug dealing, prostitution, and mass murders.

"The Carnales were the first organized gang in Stilwater," Dex explained, "The way Julius tells it, they owned the whole damn town until Benjamin King stepped up against them. Tell ya what though, I ain't so worried about their history so much as I am about the fact that A: The Lopez Brothers are icrazy/i motherfuckers and B: Victor, their enforcer, survived a dozen VK drive-bys." I raised a brow, slightly impressed, but waited to hear the rest before saying anything else.

"Sounds pretty bad, right?" I silently agreed, "Now add in that the Carnales are backed by the largest drug cartel in the world, and I think you understand why we're gonna play it safe and not pull a Johnny. We cut off their income first, then go for Hector. Sound good?" I nodded and smiled.

"That was a rhetorical question," he said, "But thanks for your support."

I headed out after being given directions to their drug labs, which I was ordered to destroy. As I pulled my light brown hair back in a quick pony tail, I concluded that today would at least be fun to some degree.


	7. Chapter 7

Before I could call on Jimmy, the guy who earlier had gotten punishment for disrespecting Lin, Troy approached me outside of the church, though he looked as though he'd just been going in.

"You look a whole lot better than how you did a couple of days ago," he told me and I shrugged in response, though I was fully aware that I'd looked like Hell even before rescuing Gat from the VK.

"I think I understand why you didn't want to go up against those guys. Tanya's disgusting, and I was afraid to go to sleep the night before after Green (thanks, by the way, for remembering to give me i all/i of the details of the people I'd be going up against) whacked me in the head with his gun."

Troy took a drag from his cigarette, having made himself comfortable up against a stone pillar while he listened, a light smirk on his face, "That's probably the most you'd said to anyone here," he commented, but didn't give me time to make a reply if I had one since he continued, "Sorry about that, though. Johnny's really more of the type to jump in straightaway and not really give a shit about all the details. You'll find Dex and Lin more thorough—I wouldn't sit on this VK stuff for too long, Jess," I'd sometimes forgotten that not everyone here was clueless about my name, "We don't want to leave King too much time to recuperate or make a move against us."

I understood perfectly and nodded myself, lingering by him to see if the conversation would go on farther, even though the work Dex had assigned to me was still pending.

I could feel his eyes, which up close I could now tell were hazel brown, on me as we stood there in silence. They searched me up and down, but in such a way that told me he was making an observation rather than trying to be a pervert. I shrugged uncomfortably, and he must have noticed because out of the corner of my eye I saw his gaze flick to the ground where his fingers had sent his cigarette sailing through the air when it was finished.

"You're kinda young," he commented and I stared up at him for clarification, "You look like an older high school kid or someone who ain't finished with college yet. How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Nineteen, so what?"

"Just sayin' that's kind a young, even compared to us. Gat's around twenty-three, Dex and Lin are twenty-seven at most and I'll be thirty-one in a couple of months. But you're not even old enough to buy yourself a drink," He pointed to my sweater, "And putting two and two together, I'd say you were a college student before Julius picked you up. Why's a college kid rollin' with the Saints instead?"

I covered up my shirt and turned away from him when he touched on a sensitive subject before shooting him a sidelong glance.

"You ask way too many questions," I said, still covering up my sweater.

"Even gangbangers get curious."

True, but he did in such a way that made me a little uncomfortable, like I was being investigated and interrogated. "Yeah, whatever," I said, forcing myself to ease up again, "At least I'm not underage. I can legally make my own decisions. And why did I join the Saints?" I pondered this for a long second myself, leaving Troy in suspense, "'Cause while life's still pretty shitty, at least it's not still boring."

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his baggy pants, cocking his head to the side before finally nodding slowly in understanding.

"I guess anyone can understand that," He told me, and we stayed there in silence a few moments longer before I started to feel uncomfortable again. Slowly, I started dragging my feet away and he said goodbye.

I caught a ride from another Saint, a woman closer to my age with ebony skin and her hair twisted into two knots on either side of her head. She wore a purple tube top and a pair of worn out acid-wash jeans, with her feet covered up by athletic shoes. She introduced herself to me as Sunny, the big, triangular ornaments she wore in her ears bouncing as I asked her to accompany me in destroying a few drug labs.

She lead me over to her big purple Compton that had pink tint windows and a pair of big fuzzy dice in it that I could see when the top was down.

"Honey, I got just the thing for this, really, I think we're gonna have a good time," she said, and she reached into the backseat, uncovering what lay underneath a woolen blanket. My eyes widened as they settled on the rocket launcher and I quickly gave a look around me. This was definitely a bigger gun than the one Tanya had meant for Green.

"Where did you get that?" I whispered.

"Oh, someone owed me a big birthday present and I already got a good house and everything so why the fuck not? It shoots good, you wanna give it a try?"

Fuck yes. We hopped into her car and she rolled down the street where I directed her to go for our first stop. The alley the drug lab was in was wide enough for the Compton to roll through, so all I had to do was open the door, aim, fire, and have Sunny floor it before we got hit with any of the blast. Carnales fell left and right and each explosion was as deafening as the first when it had blessed my eardrums, but unfortunately the first lab was the only one we were lucky enough to get in and get out.

Armed with our shotguns, I kicked down the door that was three blocks away from the first drug lab, which had been dangerously close to the church. Our third would make their points on the map triangulate, a remarkably strategic method of positioning. The second lab when much like the first, only on our feet, but on the third, Sunny wanted us to put away the toy and go in ourselves. I get it. I wouldn't want to spend too many rockets either.

I kicked open the door again, cocking my shotgun and blowing away the first guy that ran at me with a knife in his hand, having abandoned his gun momentarily. The others in the room had been smarter than that and all drew their weapons to aim in fire. In a beautiful moment of synchronization, I ducked and Sunny came in behind me, mowing them down with two SMG's, one in each hand. Never had I finished a fight so quickly.

"I got the work table," Sunny said, blasting through the most flammable bottle of chemical in the lab to watch the fire spread. We bustled out of there quickly, of course, and jumped back into her car, but once we were settled, she burst out laughing and patted my head and hair.

"Bitch," she said, "Anyone else would look so happy that this is all over. You a goddamn psychopath you so fuckin' bored right now, lookit you," she pointed to her side mirror and I smiled sheepishly.

The possibility of having some real mental instability bothered me to a degree. All my life all I'd ever been was boring. I've been plain in looks and personality, but now to think that for nineteen years I've been so dry because I had never tasted what a sick mind could define as fun, it made me queasy. I frowned and held my stomach.

"I'm not a psycho," I said quietly, and I got out of the car. I wasn't angry with Sunny; she had no idea what she'd done. But she didn't seem like she cared much because she didn't come after me or ask me what was wrong.

I decided to walk the length back to the church, dragging my feet with my hands in my pockets to think. Would a psycho have gone back to Stilwater University after Julius saved their life? Would a psycho have returned to their disturbingly monotonous college life where they hated nearly every person they had ever met not only in school, but in their life time? Would they have lived out the entire length of their life without doing a damn thing that never made them the least bit significant to anyone in the world aside from marrying and mothering children or participating in a school fundraiser or something?

This past week and a half, I'd done so much more than what I could have imagined as a kid. I made friends in a short time, friendships that were stronger bonds than the ones I had with my family, and I've saved the life of one of those friends. I've worked in tandem with people to watch their back as they watched mine. If I had gone to Stilwater, what would I be doing now? Probably working on forgiving that dickwheel Danny and watching all this shit go down on the news. So what if I was a psychopath? So fucking what? At least now I can say I've done more with my life than anyone else who was like me can say they did with theirs. I used to be boring. I'm not half as boring as I was three weeks ago.

I was almost to the Church to go see Dex only to see him as I passed by the store window for Sloppy Seconds, which I entered to come in on a heated conversation between him and Gat, who I had not expected to see for a while. My mood had been stormy when I walked in, but seeing him on his feet brought a smile to my face, even if it was with the help of a knee brace.

"Dex, don't worry, I have a plan," he urged, his brow knit and his fists opening and closely out of what I could assume was frustration.

Dex was sitting on the checkout counter, which whoever normally worked the cash register was absent from. I assumed the two had taken care of her since the shop was empty from everyone but the three of us. He didn't look convinced, and shook his head while he started to reiterate what his body-language had already got across.

"Johnny," he said, "Your idea of a plan is to taking the biggest hammer you can find and smashing everything in your way." Sounds like a good plan to me at this point, actually.

Gat took the words out of my head, only he spat them out quickly the more irritated he grew—which grew exponentially the farther the conversation progressed.

"That sounds like a plan to me!"

"Yeah, a shitty one," Dex pointed to Johnny's leg, "as your whack-ass robo leg clearly proves."

"Oh, fuck you!"

"Next time you wanna try that cowboy shit, you might not walk away at all," Dex pressed, though I could tell this was more of a friend fussing over the well-being of another friend rather than a superior trying to tell those below him how to better do his job. Dex didn't seem like that type to me, and he'd know Gat far longer than I had.

The words when in one ear and out the other, evident by the way Gat replied, "No, seriously. iFuck/i. You."

"Look, I worked out a plan that will hurt the kings and put minimum risk on you."

"How much murderin' do I get to do?" Of course, Gat would ask that question.

"None."

Johnny waved him off and turned away, his face quite obviously displeased more than anything else. "Your plan blows," he spat.

"Hear me out, aight? King's obviously got somethin' goin' on with the police, I'll figure that shit out. Meantime, I want you two," He pointed to both me and Johnny, and I had realized my presence did not go unnoticed, "To go out and cause some havoc. If we can turn the public's eye to the Kings, then the police will have no choice but to come down on them."

I waited to hear out the rest of the plan, which Johnny must have been waiting for too. He was considerably calmed at this point, and even sounded interested when he asked, "Okay, so we go and do some damage. How do the kings get blamed?"

He tossed us both wads of yellow fabric, which I caught in my hands without difficulty, suggesting that we put on yellow instead of Saints Purple. That was fine and all with me, but of course, Johnny had another problem with it.

"I'm yellow enough as it is, Dex," he said, referring to his being of Asian descent, and I laughed. Quickly, I cut off the show of amusement after Dex's agitated stare fell on me.

"Just put the damn shirts on," he said, and Gat consented.

"Fine," he looked at me and pointed me to the dressing room in the back, "Get dressed. We got a little peace to disturb." Finally things were getting a little more interesting than blowing up drug labs, which I had failed to mention to Dex.

I pulled the yellow jacket I was handed on, and zipped it all the way up. It was baggy on me, so it could cover up a good amount of the Saints purple of my pants. I think if you're wearing mostly yellow though, you're counted as a VK, and this dress-size zip-up hoodie would have to suffice anyway. I was also handed a yellow visor, which I put on sideways to imitate Dex and drew my ponytail through it. Once I looked like a VK, I stepped out of the dressing room and joined Gat as he walked outside, clearly eager to get the ball rolling on this.

"Alright," Gat started when we were within earshot of one another if we whispered, "If the Vice Kings are gonna take the fall, we gotta make sure whatever we do is caught on tape." And that made sense to me. The more proof there was, the better chance we had of this working, right? "Let's get this shit started… first thing we're gonna do is torch a couple of stores."

I followed behind him as we walked into a convenience store across the street. Gat walked straight up to the guy at the counter, but I turned to kind the security camera to flip it the bird, covering my face with my hands and kicking over a magazine stand while Gat was busy burying a few rounds of his pistol in the shoulder of the cashier and the wall behind him.

"Benjamin King owns this town!" He screamed and I pulled out my remaining pistol from the big pocket of my new VK coat as he started on our hastened leave of the store.

"Let's head out to the retail district," he told me as he headed toward the edge of the sidewalk, but he didn't stop when he got to the road since at the corner there was a car stopped at the light, the driver waiting patiently and completely unaware of the fiery Johnny Gat heading towards him. Roughly, he opened the driver's door and I rushed to the passenger's seat as Gat proceeded to smash the owner's nose against the steering wheel. The man shrieked and was tossed from the car with ease. When he was in, he stepped on the gas, and already we saw police lights in the rearview mirror.

The retail district was in a more ritzy part of town and over the bridge. I wasn't actually really far from the university, although I pledged never to set foot there ever again for as long as I lived. Johnny sent the old muscle car he'd taken flying down the road with the cops right on our tail. In pursuit, these assholes were pretty ballsy. I leaned out of the window as Gat was too busy driving to really be a good shot, and fired my pistol at their windshield. Seven shots spread across three minutes brought the car to a crashing stop, putting the closest cruiser to us out of commission.

Our first two stops at Impressions and a couple of other real fancy clothing stores were the classic shoot 'em up for their money deals. In Impressions, Johnny went on a search for the manager while I made the seedy looking man being the counter in a knockoff Armani suit choke on lead. I'd always hated this store for the simple fact that every bitch that had ever seemed annoying enough to be worth hating always talked about blowing their parents money here. Where were they going to expensive slut suits from now?

The next move Gat wanted to make was in downtown, at a large modern art structure of three bowling pins piled on top of one another. It was located on this side of the bridge, so it was a pretty short drive away, but when we spotted it across the field with a large fountain laying in the middle of it, Johnny hadn't even slowed the car. Actually, he turned it and pressed the gas harder. The engine growled and the wheels squealed as we took off across the grass.

I returned to the safety of the inside of the vehicle after flattening the wheels and lowering the numbers of the cops after us when I felt us soaring through the air. There had been a slope that Gat had sped up and coming off of it, we gained air and sailed straight ahead to the bowling pins. I covered my face with my hands and expected to be crushed, but other than a dull crash and the sound of shattering glass, I only heard a crack and a rumble. I peeked out from in between my fingers to find that while the hood of the car was more than dinged up, I was very much alive, and the bowling pins were scraped and damaged, enough so that the one at the very top had been broken from its scarce bindings and was rolling with us off of the structure.

When our wheels touched the ground again, I felt a little more at ease, but looked to Gat who I even thought would be finished. But no, it wasn't so. He had one more thing to do.

"Let's go to those city work vehicles garage and get a bulldozer. There's just somethin' I've been dying to do," and he sounded excited enough that I would have felt a little bad if I refused. He made it there in a matter of minutes, and I guessed he really knew his stuff about places like that.

He pulled into the lot, and got out as soon as the car was stopped, prompting me to follow suit and get in the bulldozer conveniently left out in the open. Of course I still needed my pistol because the cops were swarming everywhere. We'd crushed one vehicle with the heavy bulldozer and Johnny started on the road to a statue of Alderman Hughes, which was the Mayor. Meanwhile, I kept his back, reloading when I needed to and dropping a cop here and there when I had the chance.

Suddenly I felt the jolt and turned in my seat to watch the large, white statue of Mayor Hughes fall to the ground and crush its face against the pavement.

Benjamin King's deep voice reassured the mayor on the other end of the line who was quite obvious enraged at the events that had gone down this night. Compared to the gang leader, nobody was quite as calm and composed, nor could they have attempted to be such a way. It was in King's nature to keep a cool head, and here he was, doing as his nature allowed him in the very same conference room he seemed to have all of his important meetings and conversations in.

"Don't worry about it," He said, with a pause as Alderman grouched on the other line, "…Look, if it was one of mine, I'll take care of it. But I'm tellin' ya, I don't care what colors they were wearin', it was that crew from Saints Row I was tellin' you about… No, I am not makin' excu—I will. Tell your wife I said 'hello.' Goodbye, Alderman," and the aged gangster hung up his cell phone with a heavy sigh.

Warren was sitting directly across from his boss with his well-dressed feet up on the pristine tabletop and waiting patiently for the conversation that took place to be over. Now that it was concluded, he released the anger he had pent up inside since before the call had been made.

"Great!" he started, "Now we got yo' cracker-ass friends trippin'! Like I said, fuckin' with city hall's a waste of time!"

"Wrong," King said coolly, "Workin' with them is what gives us power."

His feet were swept off of the table and planted firmly on the floor as Warren grabbed his white-gold plated .44 Magnum out from his coat to show his employer, "Yo, fuck that! This is what gives us power."

In response, King stood on his feet, still as composed as ever with his arm extending to the door, a large finger pointing its way there. His brow may be furrowed, but there wasn't anything but a hint of slight annoyance in his tone as he uttered a simple order.

"Get the fuck outta my office."


	8. Chapter 8

"Okay," Dex said, pointing to the map with various yellow circles he'd lain out across the hood of a car just outside the church three days after me and Gat played dress up, "Looks like the cops have been getting' in on some of King's protection rackets; That's why they've been goin' so easy on the VK's. We gotta go public with this shit. Now, if we—."

Johnny interrupted by placing a heavy box on top of the map. It looked to me like it was a toolbox, but knowing Gat, it could be anything from a hammer he liked to smash people's skulls in with to a safe box that he held a gun that possessed a special place in his heart. The word 'DANGER' engraved into the top made this sound like a more likely story.

"Don't worry Dex," he said casually, "I have something more subtle in mind."

Dex opened the box and observed its contents, hiding them from my view when I leaned over to have a look too. I retreated back to my spot where I'd been standing as Dex explained and watched as he took a second to look at whatever goodies Gat had in his special box and back at Gat.

"Johnny, you can't be serious."

Gat raised his brows, looking surprised that Dex would even imply that he wouldn't be serious about whatever was in the box. If I had to guess, it definitely had something to do with murdering. Coming from Gat, it was probably mass murder.

"Fuck yeah, I'm serious," Johnny replied, crossing his arms.

Dex sounded more alarmed this time, though slightly interested when he asked, "iWhere did you get those?/i"

"Anthony's condo," and I drew the connection when I remembered the comment about the heavy stuff Green had mentioned having, "He had a big mouth."

I took a chance again at leaning over to take a look and I smiled down at the rockets stored in Gat's mystery box before I mumbled, "I've used those before."

I felt two pairs of eyes on me, both just as surprised as the other. I guess I'd earned my reputation as the quiet rookie who still got a high from the smell of blood, but it dawned on me that I'd been sorely underestimated in the level of psychotic tendencies I possessed. I lifted my gaze from the silver cased explosives and switched my blue eyes from one man to the other with a 'what?' expression plastered on my face.

Dex sighed and rubbed his temples, spent now that he realized that he had not one, but two trigger-happy psychopaths under his watch. In classic action-movie style he said, "This isn't gonna end well."

"Don't listen to the old woman," Johnny told me, "I'll drive to where the cops are pickin' up protection money, you make 'em cease and desist with one of Tony's noisemakers. If we make sure the only cops we hit are the ones workin' for King, people are gonna start askin' questions, and the cops are gonna have no choice but to come down on the VK's to save face," We'd started getting into the car we had used as a surface for the map, the box of 'noisemakers' placed in the backseat. This was Johnny's car, a blue convertible I rather liked, but I still desperately missed my silvery version of the General Lee.

Johnny had an armory of other weapons in the back seat, and I was allowed to take my pick of them since he could practically smell on me that I was low on ammunition for my own guns. I picked up an assault rifle that I appreciated and admired for a few long minutes since all was still quiet as he started up the road and headed towards the bridge. Of course Gat and I had made ourselves pretty famous for the VK's, so once we got into their territory, it could be expected that as soon as we were spotted we'd be in trouble.

Meanwhile, Gat attempted to make conversation, much like his girlfriend, Aisha once had when we'd first met the week before. Nothing short of casual chatter could be expected with the prospect of murder up ahead.

"So, the other day, Aisha's givin' me shit sayin' I don't do anythin' nice for her. Can you believe that? I mean, I've paid for her every time we go out so I'm like 'the hell you talkin' about? I picked up the check at the firing range,'" I snorted and he glanced at me from the corner of his eye, but didn't skip a beat when he continued, "And then she goes on and on about dinner this and flowers that. It's fucking bullshit, right?" I stayed quiet and he sighed after pausing for an interlude where someone else may have spoken up, nodding his head although I'd said nothing, sounding a bit irritated when he picked back up, "Yeah… yeah, thanks for your advice man, you're a big help."

For a split second, I'd wished I'd spoken up. I suppose now if I did, it would be as though I was giving it to him to satisfy his lack thereof and not because I really had anything useful to say. So I just grabbed extra ammunition for Johnny's assault rifle and loaded up as much as I could, preparing for the incoming fight, and tightened the pony which my hair was tied into. I placed a good amount at my feet and some in the pocket of my purple and white letterman-jacket that I had replaced my other clothes with, and in place of my sweatpants I wore a pair of jeans because clean clothes were a necessity for my survival.

"Alright," Johnny said, his voice considerably lowered, "We're comin' up on the first meetin'."

I clicked the gun and aimed it atop the windshield when a group of people wearing piss-yellow and some wearing cop blue was finally in view, I opened fire on them, appreciating how quickly the toys Gat had could mow down a motherfucker, and how easy it was. This was certainly way better than my SMG.

Beside me, Johnny laughed, "Damn, you sure do know how to handle that thing." I felt like a kid who learned how to play with her new Christmas present not ten seconds after she opened it, and not only was it a good present, it was ifuckin' amazing/i. They'd never seen me coming, which was why cutting through the crowd was like taking a hot knife to butter. But now I sat up on the seat with my eyes and ears perked for VK and cops bound to come chasing us after we'd put them on alert.

The police sirens came quickly from around the corner, probably a traffic cop. The car I was in moving around and making turns made it difficult to get a good shot, but I kept the trigger jammed down and the bullets spraying. They'd dotted the hood of the police cruiser and cracked the windshield, but I needed to force my arms steady to make a good shot at both the people occupying the cab. It took about fifteen bullets to make sure they were dead, and the swerve they made assured me that this was true.

Turning another corner there were VK on the sidewalk, pistols out as we drove by. None of my bullets got them when I aimed, but I couldn't do much about it since we kept moving. It was away from the threat they posed, anyhow. Another turn later, Gat warned me of another meeting, this time at the gas station. I knew exactly what to do.

I picked up the RPG we had in the back, and from the road I fired at the hoses where some yellow sedans had them dispensing fuel into their cars. Those sons of bitches hadn't even known what hit them, and the huge blast that signified the end to their meeting was morbidly satisfactory. That solicited a few laughs from Gat, and from me, though I kept it quiet.

We were now on our way to the third and what I assumed to be the final meeting, but it would be a bumpy ride there if the VK that was now following us got close enough to tailgate the whole way there. Using the targeting mechanism built into the more expensive and more military-style RPG compared to the one Sunny had let me use, I focused on the VK car that swerved between the lanes behind us, and fired once the box was green. The smirk that had formed on my lips upon picking up this beauty never wavered for second.

Moments passed and I could sit back down in my seat for another five minutes before we came up to the final meeting. I readied a rocket just for them, firing at the ground and watching them sail through the air, set aflame and coming apart. A veil of darkness had set over my thoughts, sitting coiled up and hissing sinisterly like a venomous snake. I caved and let it attach itself to my inner thoughts to probably later feed on my subconscious thought and my moral standards.

I'd assumed wrong, and Gat sped off quickly to the fourth meeting, commenting how everything seemed to be going pretty great. I smiled in response, though I knew he was too busy watching the road to notice. He cut through the park, and police cruisers chased after us only to taste Armageddon as I fed them a rocket. The sirens died down like a toy when its batteries where low on juice. We came up on it, and a fifth just down the road. Gat ran over most of the guys during the fourth meeting, so I didn't bother to waste a rocket. I just ducked so none would hit me and send me out of the car. For the fifth, I spared the last two rockets, slightly disappointed that the fun was over. Now I just had to defend the car as Gat drove to 'Forgive and Forget,' that little abandoned maintenance booth where Troy and I had hidden out in and changed up the paint on my first stolen car.

He turned a sharp corner here, and another there, putting the VK and the cops out of sit behind us before he dared to speed into the booth where we would sit and wait an hour until we were sure everything was clear ahead.

"We're headin' over to the construction site," he said when he finally started up his car again, which had surprisingly only taken a few dings after that whole mid-morning adventure we had, and he floored it, spending the drive in silence as the day turned from cool morning to breezy afternoon. The stop in front of the unfinished building was quick, and I exited the vehicle not seconds after Johnny, still holding fast onto the assault rifle I had fallen in love with.

"I think the Kings are through with the Policeman's Balls," he said, soliciting an immature laugh from me. We headed to the trunk and he opened it to reveal more dynamite than I'd ever seen, even in an old western movie featuring critters stuck in a mine. "Now all that's left to do is give Warren a final 'fuck you,' and I'd say it's been a Helluva day," Johnny said, and I silently agreed with a nod.

He jerked his head and we walked across the street, leaving the car I had admired just as I had left Aisha's car. Once we were a safe distance away, Gat pulled a device from his pocket and pressed the button with a grin, relishing in the sound of the blast as Kingdom Come Records once again blew to hell.

Once again in his office, Mr. King spoke on the phone to Mayor Hughes, starting out calmly with the usual niceties of helloes and 'it's nice to hear from you,' but the Mayor was having none of it.

"What-?" King's composure was interrupted for a moment, but gripped tightly to keep, "Wait, wait, slow down, what are you saying? Our arrangement has been beneficial for both par-," the Mayor interrupted to insist on cutting of the deal, but King was just as persistent, "Listen, why don't we talk about this tonight? Over dinner. I'm sure we can work this out and come to an agreement…" When the mayor finally consented King said his goodbyes, satisfied he still had the power to negotiate.

As he was finishing up his conversation, Warren Williams and Tanya Winters had both entered his office, staying quietly until the phone was once again in its cradle when Warren spoke up to Tanya.

"See?" He asked, gesturing to King, "This is what I'm talkin' about!"

"Who said you could come in here?" King asked, standing to keep his ground more than to greet his uninvited guests.

"We need to talk," Tanya demanded.

"Do we now?"

Here, Warren stepped forward to stand up against King and make gruesome accusations about his employer. "You been puttin' yourself before the crew!" he claimed.

King's eyes narrowed and he assumed a posture that challenged Warren to step an inch closer. "Keep talkin', lil' nigga."

And he took the challenge: "If you hadn't wasted our time stickin' your nose up them white boy's asses, we coulda owned the whole damn game by now."

Benjamin King shook his head in disappointment at the persistent, but air-headed Warren Williams and reiterated a past-made point, "I told you before that we ain't getting' into that shit."

"And why the fuck not!?" Warren raised his voice and waved his arms around as he fumed, "That's where the money is! Man, if you got down with that shit back in the day, the Carnales would be nothin' but ghosts right now! But ya didn't, did ya? You were too much of a pussy then, and you're too much of a pussy now."

King grabbed Warren by the back of the neck with his large hand and slammed the boy's face into his pristine conference table, drawing a surprised and pained grunt from him.

"You forget who you talkin' to," King's deep voice rumbled in Warren's ear, "My name is iBenjamin Muthafuckin' King/i. I'm the man who took my crew from bein' a bunch of baby gangstas in Sunnyvale to being one of the most influential and feared forces in the goddamn city. You know how I did that?" He had picked Warren's head up to talk, but when Warren didn't answer, King repeated the question, once more slamming the other's face into the desk.

Struggled grunts escaped his lips before the question, "How, Mr. King?"

"I did it by know when it was time to build, when it was time to watch, and when it was time to act," After a momentary pause, he released the pressure on Warren's head and pushed him away, allowing for the younger man to stand up straight again. "I'm through carryin' your punk ass," he told him, "If I were you, I'd drop them flags and get the fuck on out of here before I erase you."

"I ain't goin' nowhere," Warren persisted, daring to inch closer.

"You ain't hearin' me son," King said coolly, "I said-,"

"Yo, fuck that. You ain't hearing me."

Tanya had left during the ensuing disagreement between Warren and King, returning now with two other members as her muscle.

"What is this?" King demanded, and Warren replied cleverly.

"I built. I watched. And now I'm acting," he said as Tanya closed the door behind them.

The next day I rose late in the morning and headed out to the church, only to find Johnny's office empty save for a note on his desk. It read:

i Out with Aisha. Take the day off. Get high, get laid, whatever.

-Johnny /i

As I was reading it, the doors to the church were opened quickly and heavy, but quick footsteps followed. I hadn't paid too much attention to them until a voice from behind me urgently demanded in a deep baritone, "Where's Gat?"

I turned to see Julius standing there, and as for his answer, my eyes fell on the notepad in my hand with nonspecific information scribbled on the top page.

"iFuck/i!" He growled, and I took a step back, though he quickly calmed when he addressed me: "Listen carefully, Jess. Benjamin King just called. It seems like one of his boys got a big head and tried to take him out. He's pinned down in the park right now and needs some help. Now, what happens to King might not mean shit to you," I made a mental comment on how true that was, "But him and me, we got history. I owe king from way back in the day and he ain't gonna eat it if I can help it. You're gonna go out there and save his ass. Understand?"

I nodded and grabbed the assault rifle I had stored in Gat's office seeing as how it was his property, but it was the first gun I saw and wanted before I started to head out.

"I ain't fuckin' around, playa. You bring King back here safe, you feel me?"

"Yes sir," I replied before finally scurrying off. Around the park, there was all of these recreation buildings, and when I hopped in a car a random Saint had left unattended in the church parking lot, I sped off towards the place Julius had told me, only to see that specifically, Benjamin King was pinned down outside of the Stilwater Museum.

I plowed through as many Kings that were in my way with the path I took through the maze-like exterior with the toy I'd borrowed from Johnny, but more quickly swarmed to my location once I reached the stairs to the elevated bridge where King was taking cover—I could tell by how many people were trying to get there. I ascended them backwards firing to keep the kings at a distance, and to kill. Mostly I was just keeping them under their cover behind the garden boxes dotted across the small plaza.

I'd gotten to the top of the stairs but never turned my back until I was sure they couldn't get me from behind while they were still on the bottom floor, and my blue eyes searched for King. A large, dark figure in an expensive suit that was only slightly mussed came out from behind a tree planted in the middle of the walk way and he aimed his guns at me, enough cause for myself to take a step back and raise my hands. This had to be King since I hadn't seen anyone else in the gang dress half as nicely aside from Green.

We came to a standstill, him and I, and stood there with my hands in the air and the barrel of his pistols aimed at my chest for a few painfully long seconds before he said, "So, you're the kid Julius sent me, huh?" I nodded and jerked his head in the direction across the park, "Good. C'mon then, let's get to my car." I looked and spotted a big, yellow truck and followed King as he blasted his way through the crows of what used to be his gang with me as his backup.

When we were in the cover of his truck, me in the driver's seat, King reached in the backseat and pulled out an assault rifle that looked just like mine. I had little time to think about how we were twinsies, because King was more focused on getting to Warren Williams, a name I only recognized from when I 'killed' Aisha.

"Look," King said, pointing down the road at a yellow sports car, "There he is. Drop that bitch!"

I slammed on the gas and we lurched forward, my gun firing towards the car the whole way. Warren reacted late, but not too late, and his car was fast, but King's truck was pretty agile itself. I caught up to his tail end and rammed him, tailgating him for two seconds as I still fired. I missed Warren, but came pretty close since he was ducking every time bullets hit his dash.

The police were everywhere, and as I kept speeding up and ramming Warren, they were doing the same, boxing the two of us in until finally I could jerk the wheel and send the other spinning towards a wall where his dinged up engine that had tasted my bullets finally gave and caught on fire. The cops back off quickly, allowing me and King to get out of there too. As I sped away, King watched Warren's car burn in the rearview mirror.

"So long, Warren," He said, before his big eyes flicked to me, finally able to spend the time to take a long look. "Thanks for the help, kid," he said and I shrugged, turning a corner away from the cops, "Now just take me to Julius. Now that I had a new objective, I slammed on the gas once more, watching out of the corner of my eye as King grew uneasy. Decidedly, it would be best if I slowed on our way to the church as long as no cops were following us around. I could still hear the sirens, but when I took back ways and alleys that were large enough to fit the Big Bird mobile, it made me harder to find.

I rolled up to the church and came to a stop, getting out at the same time King did and heading towards the entrance.

Warren pulled himself out of his burning vehicle, the cops too busy chasing down remaining VK and Saints battling out on the street. The shock from the crash had made leg space tight, so it was an adventure getting his legs and feet out of his car. While he was mostly out of the vehicle, maneuvering his expensive shoes out from underneath what used to be the dash, the clicking of heels on pavement called his attention.

"Hey baby," Tanya purred, standing there with her hands behind her back as she looked down on Warren from where she stood five feet away.

"The fuck you standin' around for!?" He was too impatient for his own good, "Give me a fuckin' hand!" He tugged and pulled on his foot which was stuck in the vehicle, mumbling and cursing King as Tanya stood in place. "'Lil' nigga…' I'll show King who the little nigga is, his muthafuckin' ass is mine!" and he gave a final tug before requesting Tanya of her help again. Only this time when he looked up at her, he was staring down the barrel of a pistol. "What's goin' on?" he asked.

"You're a bright boy. I'm sure you can figure it out."

Warren Williams grit his teeth in rage and he glared up at her, uttering a final threat, "Bitch… you better not miss, 'cause if-," which was interrupted by bullet tearing through his frontal lobe. When Warren went limp, Tanya stepped back to observe her work, a smirk coming over her painted face.

"Thanks for the advice," she said callously before turning away.


	9. Chapter 9

It was dark outside by the time we all gathered in Julius' office, sitting around the big desk he had there. I sat between Julius and Gat, with Mister King on the other end from Gat on the other side of Julius. Their conversation was pretty civil for a couple of gang leaders who had plotted to take one another down, but I supposed those plots were more from Julius' side. There was, of course, also the face that these guys had grown up friends.

"Lookin' good, Ben," Julius said as he sat down in his large chair on wheels.

"Been a long time, Jules," King replied, allowing friendly tones to accompany the beginning of the business we were bound to discuss tonight for fear of Tanya or Warren (if he was still alive) of making a move against King while we recuperated.

"Sorry 'bout Anthony."

"That was business," Mr. King assured him with a casual wave of his hands to signify it was no big deal, "Let it go."

They traded nods and Johnny nearer to my end of the table spoke up when silence fell to ask, "So what's the plan?"

"We kill Tanya and I get back to business," King said simply, but Julius had shaken his head before his long-time friend could even finish his sentence.

"I don't think so, Benjamin."

King narrowed his eyes, "iWhat?/i?"

"I said no," Julius said, placing his hands firmly on the surface in front of him to better get across just how serious he was about that, "You're alive, we straight, but the Vice Kings? They're through."

"Then kill me," he tossed that suggestion in the pot all too casually, "An' quit wastin' my goddamn time."

Julius hadn't seemed too keen on doing that because he followed up with, "Well, you got a choice. You can keep your fuckin' pride and die right now, or you can be a man and walk away."

That was followed by a period of stone dead silence in which King stared into space before him, seeing through the heavy table and through to the ground and beyond as he fell deep into thought. I wondered for a moment just how valuable pride was to a man like Mr. King. It must be, because he seemed to conduct himself in a much more civil and professional manner than anyone else I'd seen calling themselves a VK. In the short time I'd known Benjamin King, I had learned that he was a man who certainly was worthy of pride and respect, and after seeing how he had handled himself in the presence of an enemy gang member, meaning myself, I had developed a bit of admiration for the man.

Mister King laughed and looked up at Julius, shaking a large finger at his friend. "Where did you get the balls, Jules?" He asked, and I realized that King was more likely to make the smart choice than keep a pride he could always build back up by other means.

"What's it gonna be?"

He stayed quiet for a split second, once more staring into space before giving his final answer, which destroyed every opinion I'd had of him with ease.

"I ain't walkin' away."

"Fair enough. Johnny," Julius said, whipping his head to look at Gat who had shot up in his seat, a VICE 9 drawn and aimed at Mister King's head. He didn't open fire though, probably until Julius would give the order, which I assumed was after he would be given the opportunity for his last words.

"I ain't walkin' away," King said again, but this time, he quickly added on, "Until I deal with Tanya."

Julius cocked his head as he searched King's face for a moment, an awkward smile forming on his lips until it spread into a large, toothy grin.

"My nigga," he said, pleased, as he and King both reached across the table to slap their palms together and hold it for a second before everything was settled. Gat, however, didn't take this as his cue to put his weapon away and Julius had to order that it be done. My trigger-happy psycho friend did so reluctantly, but I was sure he'd get his fill of murdering done soon.

Julius picked business back up again, "Now you understand this ain't just about Tanya, right? We're finishing the whole damn crew."

"Yeah, I know."

"So let's get to it," and addressing the room, he asked, "Plan?"

"I know where all them fools hang," King said, leaning forward to draw a map on the table with his finger, "All we gotta do is roll up in there and get their attention, then lead them to the cops. They'll take care of the rest."

"Alright, Playa," Julius turned to me and I remained attentive, "You gonna be King's wheelman."

I nodded, and looked to Mister King when he asked, "You ready for this, little girl?" and I gave him a small smile saying that I was.

We exited the church together and got into a car owned by another Saint who refused to let me take his vehicle without coming along as supervisor. Lucky for me, though, King convinced the loser otherwise and I was allowed to borrow it for the day. It was at times like this that I desperately missed my car—or well, the car that I stole but loved. When we were settled in, King got down to business immediately.

"Aight, let's get this shit started right. One of the safe houses is at the north end of town."

I turned the car around and headed there, deciding not to slam on the gas this time since I knew that last time he had been somewhat uncomfortable inside the car with me.

"So," he started to make conversation, "Does Julius ever talk about growin' up in Sunnyvale?"

I shrugged as I thought, but I couldn't think of having heard anything mentioned on Julius' part about that sort of thing, so I finally shook my head.

"What, you thought he was from the Row?" admittedly, I kind of had, and I smiled, listening as I expected King to tell something of a story as we crossed the bridge, "The problem with buryin' the past," he said, "Is that you forget about it, you know what I'm sayin'?"

I almost froze where I was, but I kept my cool. King had a point. Three weeks ago, I'd left everything I'd known for this, and now look at me. It's not only like I'm another person, it's like my entire past happened long ago to another person and grew fuzzier and fuzzier the more time I spent with people like Johnny Gat, Benjamin King, and the rest of the Third Street Saints.

Beside me, King smiled, seemingly alright that I had chosen to extend my understood vow of silence, "I bet Julius gave you the 'I don't care what flags they're flying' speech," he said, and I remembered the meeting I'd attended before taking the first Vice Kings job from Johnny. "I wrote that shit years ago," he told me, "And that motherfucker hasn't forgot it."

I gave a little laugh at that, and thought about how early this morning I had been planning on putting a bullet in Mister King sometime and quickly I felt the guilt wash over me. He wasn't half as bad or nasty as the picture Aisha, Gat, and Dex had painted for me.

"You're easy to talk to, you know that?" I was surprised since most people felt pretty awkward letting me pass by in silence as they carried on half of a conversation, "I don't gotta worry about you interruptin' me or nothin'. And that was Warren's problem. That motherfucker never knew when to shut the fuck up and listen…" He paused for a long moment, slightly digressing from the conversation to say, "You know that even if you wipe out the Vice Kings, it ain't gonna be over, right? There's always someone lookin' to take what you got… some punk ass who wants to make a name for himself. Some girl you fucked-," he looked over to me when he said this, probably wondering whether or not to correct himself before he continued, "And never called back… hey, up here, there they are."

I looked to where king was pointing, looking at all the people wearing yellow with their car parked in an alley between two restaurants. A lot of them were outdoors eating or talking, but once they saw King and me, I they swarmed to their car and went for their guns. King laughed, and now to play a game of chase to lead these assholes to the cops who were hidden four blocks away.

I kept the VK at an arm's length, but not literally of course. This way I'd make sure they were always on my tail, so understand that I had to restrain myself from flooring it, but also had to make it look like I was itrying/i to get away. They came at us with their automatic weapons firing into the night. Neither me nor King drew our weapons so we would be allowed safe passage through the police ambush if giving the appearance that we were being attacked without provocation. This would be the routine with the two other crews to follow, and overall this shit took me an hour and a half to do, what with all the slow driving. I hoped this was as much as I was required to restrain myself for the rest of the night.

"Way to go," King said when we were finished, "It's a shame Julius found you first. We coulda owned this town… now this should do us good for a couple of days. You just keep your guns loaded and don't get yourself killed before we go after Tanya. I'll see you then."

I nodded and drove back to the church in silence, dropping king off before I made off with the 4-door purple sedan to my apartment. It was a cheap thing to do, but I was sure I needed the violet Thunderbird more than the other guy did. The owner would probably find me tomorrow and I'd be forced to give it back anyway.

It was around two o'clock AM when I crawled into bed and melted into the old mattress, and about twelve o'clock noon when I rose from the temporary grave it had served to be for myself. Over tired, groggy, and smelling of early afternoon sleep, I stepped into the shower and washed away the sleep that remained. I decided to head to the church after dressing myself in the clothes from yesterday that seemed clean enough to wear again—everybody else seemed to like wearing the same clothes for a week straight, so I just got lazy and mimicked them, though I wasn't one to keep on when my clothes got even a little smelly.

Even if Julius and King were going to call me when I was needed, I could always busy myself with whatever job Dex had for me, so of course when I rolled up to the church in my 'new' car, I stopped in to see him first, walking in on a conversation taking place over an overhead view of some building, though I wasn't sure which one, between Dex and Troy, who was pointing out positions in the city.

"What if we came from here and here?" He asked, puffing on his cigarette free-handed.

Dex thought for a moment, but quickly he was able to shoot it down. "No," he said, shaking his head, "They'd just see it comin'. Cops try that shit all the time and it never works."

"Shit. You're right. Well, what ishould/i we do, then?"

"Well, we icould/i-," Dex interrupted himself to turn to me and nod me over when he heard me approaching, but he never finished what he was going to say because that was Troy's cue to explain the entire deal to me.

"I got a lead on where the Los Carnales cut all their shit," he said, and I assumed that meant drugs or the money earned from drugs.

"iThe/i Carnales," Dex corrected.

"…Wha?"

"Rio Grande River. Jesus."

"What the ifuck/i?" I busied myself with a pebble near my feet, concluding that Troy didn't appreciate being corrected much, especially on something as little as that. I wasn't too bright when it came to speaking Spanish with correct grammar anyway since the last time I sat in a language class was my sophomore year of High School.

"It's not iThe/i Los Carnales, it's just 'The Carnales,'" Dex explained, getting only a blank look from Troy in return, which pushed him further, "Los means—Fuck it. Like I was saying, we're not gonna raid the factory right yet."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I'm not a gun-totin' psychopath named Johnny Gat."

I frowned at that because while Gat's method did get him a 'shitty leg,' as Anthony Green had called it, they worked at least, even if everything was a tad chaotic sometimes. The way Johnny Gat ran things though, it was a chaos that was easily controlled by the people creating it.

"Fair enough," Troy said, satisfied now that the spotlight was off of his grammatical faults, "So what's the plan?"

"One of my boys called and said they saw a truck with a heavy LC escort leaving the factory district. It's probably loaded with drugs, but that's just a bonus. Our target is the truck itself. I need it brought back to the row in one piece—it's no good to us blown to shit," Dex's eyes flicked to me when he said this, and I again looked at my feet.

"What do you need the truck for?"

"Let's just get the truck, and then I'll tell you the rest of the plan."

Since Dex was planning on keeping Troy and I in suspense, I supposed we should to that as quickly as possible. Troy tried to argue it out of him, but Dex wouldn't budge and I concluded that Troy wasn't a fan of mystery novels by the way he pushed for just the rest of a plan he'd see eventually. But I had to agree with him when he said that it would just be "nice to know."

"Shit, Troy," Dex said, exasperated at how pushy our friend was, "What's with all the questions? Why can't you be more like my girl over here?" He jabbed a thumb at me and I hid a smile.

"Look, Dex-," He'd tried to come over to do what I assumed was give an apology, but Dex ignored him to turn and look at me.

"Could iyou/i go get that truck for me?" I nodded and turned back to take my leave, only to hear him murmur, "See? Was that so hard?" and a heavy sigh escape Troy's chest and his feet dragging on the stone ground after me.

"You heard Dex," he said when we were outside, "Let's just go get that truck and we can hear whatever else he's got planned.

I nodded and jingled the keys to the Thunderbird, piling in and waiting for Troy to occupy the passenger's seat before I threw this baby into reverse. Don't get me wrong, this is a very fine machine, but I missed my silver Dodge Charger which I had decided to lovingly refer to as General Lee II.

"This is a different car from what you usually drove before you started tearin' apart the Vice Kings," he commented, having noticed my admiration for my baby.

"The other one got taken by the cops at the old Police Station."

I backed out into the road and took off towards the industrial district while the conversation ensued.

"Sucks," Troy said, but he could help but not sound at all sympathetic when he cut to business first, "Alright, here's the plan: You get me close to the truck so I can jack that baby. Then you make sure I can make it back to the Row in one piece. I understood alright, and I stepped on the gas a little, but seeing as how I'd made Mister King rather uncomfortable with it before, I decided to slow it down on the highway some to increase our chances of not crashing and dying.

We passed by in silence for a moment or two, Troy lighting up a fresh cigarette and taking a big huff as I took the first exit to the fast lane. "Yo," he started, and I glanced over at him to let him know I was listening, "Just between you an' me… I was fine cleanin' up the Row, but getting' into this drug shit ain't cool. Someone should talk some sense into Julius," and he glanced about the cab as if he was trying to make sure that the boss wasn't around to hear.

"Well… think of it this way: it's like we're getting rid of the drugs—and I know that's not what we're going to do, but who's more likely to make people we sell it do feel like they're going to die? Us or the Carnales? But I understand what you mean… I can't say I'm all that excited to walk into meth labs or anything like that."

Troy nodded, "An' I know Lopez. Once we steal from him, he ain't gonna back off. Either we're dead, or he is."

"Then we plan carefully, we watch our backs, and we kill him as soon as we get the chance."

Troy agreed with me, but we didn't have much time to talk further because he whipped out his pistol as I turned into the industrial district—Carnales Territory. I followed a small vehicle path winding around a factory and drove along the blacktop, searching for the truck. It couldn't be that easy to hide, so maybe I just wasn't seeing it.

"There it is," he said, "Cover me while I get it running," and while we were both still in the Thunderbird, using it as cover, we shot down a few Carnales until there was only a few left hiding behind their bright red cars. We sought them out, using the big purple vehicle we'd arrived in as our cover as bullets ricocheted off of metal and pavement. There was a Carnales diagonal from me across the blacktop, and I fired a few shots at him with my shotgun, but this weapon wasn't incredibly great with range.

I hid behind the car, waiting for him to go behind his hiding place to jump out while he was reloading. I would have had to wait a while if this guy was at all smart, but instead of doing the sensible thing and saving his ammo, he emptied the entire clip at me. I took my chance and ran across the pavement, my shotgun at the ready until I got to the red muscle car he was driving and snuck around it, quickly blowing his head to bits and spraying it all over the car and its windows.

While my shotgun adventure was taking place, Troy had busied himself in the front seat of the truck to hotwire it, mumbling to himself as he struggled to find the right wires. I had no idea how to hotwire a car, so I couldn't pity him. That was why I pestered other people about rides, borrowing cars, or I stole them off of people who still had the keys in their hands.

"I got it!" He shouted, and he waved me towards my car. I saw I was to act as the escort for the truck back to the row. Naturally, I hopped in and turned the key, almost not even waiting for the engine to roll up before I pressed the pedal to the floor and threw the car into reverse so I could turn around and let Troy take the lead.

More Carnales gave chase as we flew down the road, but didn't fare well against the bullets I sent towards their wheels, sending their vehicles spinning out of control at the loss of one at such high speeds. It was easier this way since I had neglected to bring along the assault rifle of Johnny's that I had fallen in love with. Our ride to the same garage I had Aisha's car decked out with explosives was bumpy and full of the music of screeching tires, insults screamed in Spanish, and gunfire.

Troy ahead of me came to a screeching stop once we were in the parking lot, and simultaneously we exited our vehicles.

"Well, we got the truck Dex wanted," he said, "Now all we gotta do is figure out what the hell he needed it for."

The warm sun was shining brightly down in uptown Stilwater, it's golden blanket draped over the three-million dollar house once owned by the late Alejandro Lopez and now passed on to his eldest son Hector Lopez, the present leader of the Carnales.

Outside by the pool, The Lopez brothers and two men, all dressed in thousand-dollar red suits sat around a checked patio table, deep into discussion.

"Angelo," the man in a red suit jacket with his hair perfectly groomed addressed the man to his left, "I want you to go to the lab tonight. One of our shipments didn't arrive and I want you to make sure that no one is skimming off of the top."

"No problem, Hector," Angelo Lopez assured his brother.

"Angelo," a woman who had been sunbathing by the pool sat up in her chair and opened her large brown eyes, "You promised we would go shopping tonight."

"Ah, shit," he shook his head, "¡Mira! Hector, I told Luz I would take her out tonight, can victor take care of-,"

"Is Victor sitting at this table Angelo?" His brother glared at him, making the scar over his left eye and the lack of pigment look that much more sinister as he did.

The younger brother looked over to the man at his left, who only stared back in response before answering, "Yes?"

"So if I wanted iVictor/i to handle it, I could have asked him, right?"

Angelo nodded, staying quiet for a moment. There wasn't any point in arguing this. He was given his orders, and to disobey Hector was to face harsh punishment by Hector's hand. The younger Lopez brother was not too keen on being punished.

"Luz, we'll go out tomorrow."

"But Angelo-," she protested.

He shouted at her in Spanish to affirm his decision. Not even his girlfriend, Luz Avalos, who he loved dearly could sway him to disobey Hector when it was made clear that Angelo would do as he was told.

"Gracias," Hector nodded to his brother.

The man at Hector's right, a balding man with olive skin and a Colombian accent sporting a white suit jacket and a red floral print dress shirt accompanied by a thick gold chain and a large cross spoke up to Angelo. "You should be nicer to the lady," he said, his tone amiable enough.

Victor buzzed something suggestive in Spanish, drawing laughs from both Angelo, and the Colombian, but a displeased expression from Luz, who glared at her boyfriend and spat an insult.

"Luz," he said, still smiling, "come on, mama, don't be so sensitive."

"I'll be inside," she said, turning to head indoors when the Colombian interrupted her.

"Señorita, a moment," he pleaded, and she turned to face him mid-step, "If Angelo is busy, I can take you out tonight."

Her expression softened and her pink painted lips spread into a smile, "Oh, Mister Orejuela, I couldn't," she said, too flirtatiously for Angelo's liking.

"Nonsense, it would be my pleasure," he insisted, his eyes flicking over to Angelo, "That is, if you don't mind me entertaining the lady..?"

Angelo stood up, fire in his eyes and about to protest. Of course not! Why should he let Luz go out with another man while he was working? But he quickly regained his seat after he received the disapproving head shake from Hector. Angelo calmed immediately so as to not invoke his brother's wrath.

"No," he said finally, "Of course not."

"Good," Orejuela said cheerfully, and then to Luz, "I'll see you at eight," She smiled and brushed a strand of her shiny dark-brown hair behind her ear before finally leaving the men to be inside. Mister Orejuela admired the backside of her until she was out of sight, before he complimented her boyfriend with, "That's a lot of woman you got there, Angelo."

"I know," he narrowed his eyes.

"Eh," Hector cut in with a shrug, "I always thought she was a bitch," to which Victor spared a hearty laugh to, only fueling the fire in Angelo's eyes. Hector didn't notice, however. His cell phone sounded off and it took precedence over the mood swings of his younger brother. Hector answered the phone, replying to the caller in Spanish. As it progressed, Hector's featured darkened and his tone more urgent until he was hissing angrily at the person on the other side.

"What is it?" Angelo asked, only to be ignored.

Hector shouted some more before clicking off the phone in frustration. All three men had their brows raised, but only Mister Orejuela had the courage to speak up first when the rather unpleasant conversation had ceased.

"That didn't sound encouraging."

"Everything is fine," Hector insisted firmly.

"Of course it is," Orejuela stood up, unconvinced as he excused himself to check on 'the Senorita.'

Angelo went past the boiling point, and as Orejuela left, biting his thumb at the other man and screaming obscenities at him for being a pervert for Luz.

"Angelo," Hector began gently, "You are my brother, and I love you… but if you let your dick fuck things up with the Colombians, I'm gonna cut it off."

"Forgive me, Hector," Angelo sat back down quickly and lowered his head upon being scolded.

"Don't let it happen again."

Victor spoke up, addressing the deal with the phone conversation now that Orejuela was otherwise occupied.

"Those pendejos in Saint's Row are the ones who took the shipment," he explained now that it was safe, "With the Colombians arriving, we can't show any weakness."

"The Colombians are already here," Angelo pointed out.

"All the more reason to settle this out. Angelo, Victor, gather your men together. It's time to tear Saint's row apart."


	10. Chapter 10

Almost every night before bed I think about returning to that old Police station to see just what was left of the fight before the Saints' Tony—my friend—had disappeared. I know I couldn't remember much from around the time Big Tony, the VK bastard had knocked me out with the butt of his gun, but I could have sworn that Antonio was behind me. Big Tony had approached from behind too, meaning he could have just as easily taken out my friend. Probably ended his life where he stood.

These thoughts always made my stomach churn and sleep never came easy, and when it did come, it was stubborn and fleeting. I'd wake up every few hours, toss and turn, and then fall back asleep only to be greeted by guilt-stricken nightmares. I should have watched my friend's back better. I should have checked up on him earlier and been more worried about him. I should have done so much for poor Tony.

I avoided sleep as long as possible, even if I was exhausted. Dark circles under my eyes and all, I dragged my feet to the church to find Dex, who would probably busy me with the next move in taking out the Carnales, which would always be better than just sitting around all day moping about how much life sucked when I tried to sleep.

"Just the girl I wanted to see," Dex greeted me with a smile, and I hoped that even if I appeared sleepless and probably undead, that I didn't look completely like hell. I tried to smile back, but I stopped after the first attempt felt like a failure on my part. Dex didn't seem to notice anyway. "Samson, our guy at the garage says he's got the truck all patched up and ready to go. I'm gonna go-," I assumed he was going to say he was going to pick it up, but I wasn't able to find out since he was interrupted by the entrance of another Saint who remained nameless since he was just another footman.

"We got a problem, Dex!" He said as he lumbered inside. This guy was tall and had a wide frame, so imagine a black Hulk Hogan walking in to disturb our conversation.

"What's up?"

"The Los Carnales are-,"

"Ugh! It's iThe/i Carnales, not 'The Los Carnales!' Jesus! What's wrong with you?"

I stared at Dex, surprised that he would let a few grammatical errors get in the way of what could be a matter of security.

"Dex, they're attackin' the Row!"

My ears perked up and my legs tingled, ready to run for it and my trigger finger itched, ready to clamp down on the trigger of that assault rifle I put back in Johnny's office. Dex however wasn't as ready to jump into action as I was, and I had to wait for the Saint to explain some details before I could head for the Carnales tearing up the neighborhood outside.

"They fucked us up pretty hard," the guy said, "Angelo and his boys came outta nowhere. It finally looked like we had Angelo pinned down—had him hidin' behind the doors of his car an' all that. We were about to take him out when his boy Victor came out from wherever he was hidin' and took all those boys that had Angelo down. No matter how many bullets that motherfucker took, he just wouldn't eat it! …Anyway, soon as they were all clear, they tailed it the fuck out."

"So they left?" Dex stated this more than asked it for clarification.

"Angelo and Victor did, but there's still a lot of LC still out there."

"Alright," Dex said, and I was surprised at how calm he was, "Let's split up. The Row's a big place, we gotta make sure we smoke all those motherfuckers."

Finally he was making perfect sense. After arming ourselves, we went our separate ways out of the church to find the Carnales who were intruding on our turf. I found a group of Saints and a group of Carnales a couple of blocks from the church, and the group of hostiles was a little larger than the group of allies. There were maybe ten, with two red cars carelessly pulled over in the middle of the street, signifying how they had gotten here.

After getting close enough, I ducked behind a purple sedan which a dead Saint was lounged in, staring up at the sky blankly from the passenger's seat. I didn't have any time to mourn the face I didn't know because already I was too concerned with the invading Carnales.

I stuck the barrel of my gun out of my hiding place and opened fire, rotating it to catch multiple victims. Four of them choked and screamed as lead tore through their bodies, but the remaining six chose to either aim at me or choose hiding places from the others.

"What are we gonna do, Boss?" One of the Saints had come to join me in my hiding place, and a smiled at the word 'boss.' I motioned for him to follow my lead, and I moved a few inches from my hiding spot, not enough to expose myself, but enough to throw off the Carnales that were waiting for me to stick out my head again. I opened fire again, and so did the Saint next to me, until the remaining men wearing read were spilling it all over the pavement.

I smiled, but a call from Dex on my cell consumed my attention before I could really appreciate my work here. Still sitting in my place behind the car, I answered, and Dex came through on the other side.

"Yo, Jess, Julius called and he wants you to meet Johnny and King at the church. Me and my boys got this handled, so you go and take care of whatever it is you need to do. I figure the sooner we get the VK off our backs, the easier it'll be to take care of the Rollerz and the Carnales."

He clicked off of the line and I made my way back to the church quickly, taking back ways so that any remaining Carnales wouldn't be tempted to come after me. At my destination I found Johnny Gat, but not Julius or King. I supposed they were busy catching up with one another.

"Hey, Jess," Gat greeted me when I entered and waved me to a seat across from his desk at which he was also seated as he immediately cut to business, "I been talkin' with King and it looks like Tanya's takeover didn't sit well with everyone. The VK are fightin' amongst themselves and now's the chance for you an' me to take 'em out for good. King wanted to come along too," he paused for a second, making a displeased face and half mumbling to me, "I just hope he hadn't gone soft."

A low chuckle and a deep baritone rumbled behind me, "Don't you ever worry 'bout me baby boy, 'cause I'm gonna handle mine," and I turned to see Benjamin King entering the same way I had, armed with a shotgun and still dressed in a thousand-dollar black and yellow suit.

For Gat, talking with Ben King was like talking with anyone else. By that, I mean that he was as blunt as ever when he told the man, "All I'm sayin' is that ever since you got here you been nothin' but talk."

"I smoked dozens of fools before," King replied cooly, "I just ain't addin' to the count unless I have to."

"Aw, that's just fucking igreat/i."

"I said don't worry about it."

My eyes flicked back and forth between the two as they started to argue, my eyes keeping on Gat since I knew he was far more likely to say something he might later regret—or maybe not so much regret as be eating them—than King was.

"I just don't want you bitchin' out when you see your crew," Johnny said matter-of-factly, and I almost covered my ears.

Somewhat to my surprise, however, King stayed calm and collected as he placed his shotgun on the desk and leaned on it to speak down to the younger man. "Ain't my crew, son," he said with a shake of his head, "that's why I'm here, remember? Now how's about you put your dick away, pick up your gun, and try an' keep your knee away from the bullets?"

I smiled at his last comment and took King's beginning to exit as my cue to stand, and so did Johnny, who stood up with his own gun coming into his hands as he looked to me.

"You heard the cocky son of a bitch," he cocked his gun and we started on our way, "Let's roll."

King got into the driver's seat of his big yellow truck once we were outside, and after everyone was safe inside the vehicle, fully armed and ready to go, he stepped on the gas, a little more lightly than I would have. I hadn't any idea where our first destination would be other than somewhere in VK territory.

"If we wanna get to Tanya, we gotta get the code to the elevator," King said, and I assumed it was the elevator in his office building, which I had never actually seen with my own eyes, at least not knowing that I was a VK building.

Johnny asked the question that should have been on my mind before I could even think to say it, "And just ihow/i are we gonna get that?"

"Tanya tells everything to her fashion consultant," King said, and I rolled my eyes at how stupid that was, "He shouldn't be too hard to break."

"So who is this guy?" Gat asked.

"Some Euro-trash motherfucker named Stefan. Works at Impressions and walks like a bitch."

"I hate him already," I could have expected that from Gat, but I sort of hated him already too. Anyone who liked Tanya, really, I could get behind hating. After spending a good half hour listening to her ramble on and on about white-bread hooker problems in her car and having a part in the kidnapping and planning to kill my friend Gat, I was really looking forward to watching her die.

The rest of the ride passed by in ten minutes of mostly silence (Johnny was busy mumbling to himself about whether to take the crowbar or the baseball bat to beat Stefan with) before we came to a sudden stop in front of the store where Gat immediately got out of the vehicle. The wooden bat, his weapon of choice, in hand he and his 'whack-ass robo leg' strolled into the boutique as King and I switched seats, me going in the driver's seat since my expertise in speeding would be needed, and him taking the seat in the back.

Johnny fought Stefan, a scrawny little balding man with an obnoxious accent almost as annoying as the bright pink silk shirt he was wearing, into the truck. The vehicle shook as he struggled, but he was no match for the much larger and stronger Benjamin king who fought him as I stepped on the gas, wheels screeching as I picked up high speeds. When all but Stefan's feet were hanging out of the car, King spoke up.

"You're gonna tell me what I wanna know, Stefan."

"Stefan knows about fashion, not about gangs!" he shouted back, speaking in the third person.

"Well, Stefan also knows Tanya," Ben went along with the third person thing for a second, "So you better start talkin'. Gimme the code to the elevator 'less you wanna end up spread thin across this road. My friend up in the driver's seat's got a habit of drivin' a little too close to other cars."

Stefan only screamed as I whizzed past another car, and King continued to press him for the answer. I maintained my ungodly speed as I turned down a busy road, listening to Stefan's horrified whine that was audible even from inside the cab. Both Gat and I laughed quietly, but I was careful not to be too loud. With the rushing wind, and the usual city noise, it must be pretty hard to hear Stefan, even at the volume which he was shrieking.

"Somebody help Stefan!" he whined, and King sighed in frustration.

"Your bitch-ass better stop talkin' in the third person, or I'm gonna drop you on principle."

"Okay, okay, okay!" Stefan shouted, giving up at last, "The code is 3131, please! You and your friend with the awful hair will let Stefan go? Stefan has told you everything!"

"Thanks for your help," King said, and I was relieved that we could finally get rid of that guy—though I hadn't suspected it would be as permanent as Ben was all too happy to do. He let go of our Euro-trash asshole and he fell right under the truck, serving as a speed bump and gaining a tire mark on his silk shirt.

"This is it, Playa," King said to me, leaning towards the front between me and Gat, "You sure you're ready?"

Before I could say anything, Johnny cut in, "King, the only person in this car I'm worried about is you. Jess can handle herself, and so can I."

Before he acknowledged Gat, King directed me to a penthouse, which I would discover to be the 'office building' I had previously assumed the VK had shacked up in. "Then you don't know me, son," King said finally.

"That's why I'm worried."

I tuned out of the banter for the rest of the drive, picking up the speed as my eagerness to get rid of Tanya was finally getting the best of me. God, I wanted to make her eat a bullet so bad. After ruining a pair of shoes on the sticky floor of her whore-house, I think I deserved to see that.

I came to a stop when King told me outside of the building, and we filed out of the car, guns in hand, ready to clear ourselves a path to the elevator. Surprisingly enough, there weren't many VK in the lobby, only three or four which were all shot down with ease when I fire-hosed it with my assault rifle, though Gat did take out most of the ones that were starting to shuffle out of the elevator. The otherwise silver walls were painted red and we shuffled over the bodies before King tapped in the code to bring us all the way up to the penthouse. The ride there would be a little long, and a little awkward if it remained quiet. The three of us occupied the space in the lift that was not already taken up by the bloody mess of the fallen VK at our feet, King and I both content with keeping with my vow of silence until a few moments passed and Johnny finally spoke up, interrupting the silent way he fumed. The air in here had gotten heavy when he went quiet, and finally when he did speak, it was a little easier to breath.

"I'm gonna skullfuck that bitch," he said finally, to King, who only smiled and shook his head, not bothering to make eye-contact.

I was standing quietly behind the two, a smile of my own forming as I let a second or two pass before I finally uttered the first words I had ever directed to Johnny Gat. "Hope you don't mind Hepatitis," I said, and he swung his head around to look at me, but we didn't have time to dwell on how gross it would be if Gat got the Hep from Tanya because the elevator came to a stop and we shuffled out, readying our guns again to fight against the various hookers and VK she had guarding King's penthouse office where she was hidden away.

She had many, but luckily not many of them were very apt with aim since Johnny, King, and I cut through their defenses like butter. I would have almost felt bad if they were anyone else's hookers, but since they all belongs to that slut Tanya, I couldn't give half a shit how they were going out. Torn apart by my assault rifle or stomped to death by Gat, it was all the same to me.

When we reached the great oak doors to King's office, a trail of dead prostitutes in our wake, King kicked open the door and we bustled in to find the room empty except for the woman we had come looking for. She had her white platform heels up on the shiny oak surface of King's desk, and she was reclining comfortably in the big leather chair that she spun around to face us and get comfortable in when we entered. Her hands went behind her head and a smirk formed on her painted lips.

"Some guys just can't get enough of me," she said cockily, looking to King and then Gat, and then me, when she finally frowned, probably remembering the two times I'd punched her in the face, "Why'd you bring that silence bitch with you?"

"Whatever," Gat said, ignoring the comment she'd made about me like I was pretty content in ignoring as well, "I've had my fill of you, bitch. Let's get this shit over with, King.'

"It's over, Tanya," King said calmly, raising his gun, "You won't be able to fuck yourself outta this one."

"That's cute, sweetie," Tanya said, finally getting up and pulling something from under King's desk, "that's just precious," and she revealed the huge assault rifle she'd bought for Tony earlier, causing for me to immediately open fire on her, taking out the great window that was stretched out behind her and shattering it to let a gust of wind through. Despite the wind rushing in, a bullet or two sent through her right shoulder knocked her backwards, her platform heels cursing her as she struggled to find her balance. Fortunately for her, she caught the ledge with her good hand and bought herself some time.

"Please!" she begged from over the ledge, trying to throw her disabled arm up to pull herself away from danger, "Please don't!" and I could hear the tears in her voice.

"Oh, Tanya," King started to stroll forward, taking on a patronizing tone, "Do yourself a favor and die with some dignity," He stopped at the ledge, bringing his large foot down on the fingers that were holding fast onto the building and rotating his toe until her grip loosened and she was sent plummeting to the ground floor, giving out a high-pitched wail as she fell. It stopped abruptly and was replaced with a car alarm, which after taking a look out into the parking lot, I saw was coming from Benjamin King's car, whose roof was now caved in from the impact Tanya had made.

"Man," Gat shook his head and patted King on the shoulder, "that sucks for your car… but let's get outta here, I'm sure the cops will be here soon," and the three of us exited the office, taking the elevator back down to the lobby which was now completely vacated except for the remaining bodies of the VK that had occupied it earlier.

"Hey," Gat started again after pushing open the big glass doors, "I know what you said to Julius and all, but why don't you stick around and roll with us? I'm sure he wouldn't mind havin' you around." And I looked to King to see what he would say about that. Honestly, I think it would be pretty great having him around. He was smart and definitely knew how to operate a gang efficiently. He might even replace Troy as Julius' right hand.

"Don't bet on that," was the only reply, and Gat accepted, turning to me.

"Hey, you think you can find a way back to the Row by yourself?" He lowered his voice a little, "Aisha… you know. The pussy calls."

"Sure thing," I said and he grinned, running off ahead of me and King to… y'know.

Now it was just me and King left on the steps leading up to the building, the car alarm still blaring in the background as the pool of blood left on its hood stopped receiving its flow from Tanya's body.

"You did good in there, little girl," he told me, digging the keys to his broken car out of his pocket and tossing them to me, "Here. Get that fixed up. I won't be needin' it anymore, and word is you need a car."

Before I could even say thanks, he parted from me, and I looked around. I could certainly walk back to the Row from here, because driving King's car was out of the question. I didn't want to get the Hep from scraping what remained of Tanya off of the car, so I tossed the keys in a nearby bus and shoved my hands in my pockets, well aware that the assault rifle slung around my body gave me away as I left the scene. Knowing Stilwater cops, though, they wouldn't give a shit a shit unless I used it in front of them or on camera.

I met Dex and Troy late in the morning the next day at the garage, after the Row was cleaned out of all the Carnales and the VK were officially done and over with. Troy and I were standing in the garage when I arrived and he was busy blowing gray smoke into the air as we passed by a couple of moments in silence.

"Dex is bringin' the truck around," he said after an exhale, "You know why he wanted that thing?" I could only shrug because Dex had also neglected to share the reason with me. IT was more likely he'd share that sort of thing with Troy anyway, but I had to agree with him that it would have been nice to know why it was needed in the first place. One of these days I'll probably end up asking too many questions like Troy rather than deal with being kept in the dark.

"Shit, Troy," Dex 's voice sounded from around the corner, "If you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask."

"That's the thing, Dex, I idid/i ask and you didn't tell me shit."

"Oh, well, I guess you did. Now ain't that a bitch," Dex shook his head in mock disappointment and I laughed as Dex circled around and bumped fists with me as he skipped poor Troy's frustration and cut back to business as usual. "Now that we have things in the Row under control, we can get back to the plan. I had the truck you took fixed up good as new, so now you load it up with a crew and drive it right into the Carnales production plant. When you get inside, hop out and take the place over."

Troy shrugged and mumbled, "That's not exactly the most original plan."

"There's somethin' to be said about the classics," he said before turning to me, who probably needed to hear what followed more than Troy did, "Now remember what I said: take the place over, don't blow it to hell. The more shit you blow up, the more we have to replace once we're running it. Got it?"

I nodded and took the keys to the truck which Dex handed to me, rather than Troy who was probably on Dex's shitlist for the state in which the truck was brought to him the first time, which a bunch of dings in it. He almost looked disappointed, but he whipped out his phone to call the crew that would ride in the back to mask just how disappointed he was. If this shit worked for Odysseus, it should work for the Saints.


	11. Chapter 11

The truck was loaded up and I was given directions to the factory. While I was seated up in the cab, pressing lightly on the gas so as not to send all of those in the back onto the floor, I could hear them mumbling amongst themselves and thought about maybe having them stay quiet in case others could hear them too. The drive to the factory was slow, and my palms sweat on the big steering wheel as I reached my destination and went to park the truck, grabbing the assault rifle I robbed Gat of before I left. The vehicle coming to a stop and staying that way was enough signal for the boys hidden in the back to kick open the door and jump out.

The Carnales were surprised, but I had to hand it to them for acting fast in the face of danger. Their guns were out almost as quickly as ours had been, and the fight started out bloody and loud, full of battle screams and death-cries to signify the first few seconds. After a few moments, the battle cries died down and all that was left was the sound of gunfire and a few grunts or thuds depending on whether or not someone died quietly.

From here on out, it was pure carnage. Bullets whizzed through the air and blood sprayed everywhere once someone was destroyed. I myself mowed down a couple of Carnales on the inside once me and the crew got to the entrance after cutting through the outdoor defenses. Six Carnales left to defend it was a cakewalk, and four of us armed with submachine guns, shotguns, and assault rifles was overkill. The last of the Carnales on the inside choked to death on a bullet lodged in his lung, or at least started to before I kicked him over, making eye-contact with the man. He was about thirty, maybe not even since he still looked young, but he did seem well beyond his teenage years. His brown eyes stared up at me as he spat profanities in Mexican Spanish, which were abruptly cut off by a bullet I sent hurtling into his skull.

Now that everyone was dead I could take a look around at the drug lab we had claimed for the Third Street Saints. It was ratty and dusty save for what lay often touched on the work tables, and if the doors were not left open as they were, the smell and fumes from producing the drugs could kill a man in a matter of minutes. Already my insides were starting to burn, so I walked out of there once more into the fresh air and whipped out my phone to call Dex.

"Manuel," Hector said calmly after the two men once again occupied the checked patio table by the pool, the sunlight glowing orange as it began its descent, "You worry too much. I assure you that everything is under control." The leader of the Carnales of course needed to keep face in sight of trouble. Despite wanting to scream and shout about the failures the Carnales had faced today and the loss of one of their labs, he kept himself collected and his tone gave away nothing but friendliness.

"I've heard some nasty rumors, Hector," stressed the Colombian man, who was just as amiable, but much more nervous than Hector Lopez.

"Like what?" Hector played dumb.

"Like one of your drug labs was shut down."

"Es nunca," Lopez lied, "one of our delivery boys thought he could cut the shit out of his deliveries. We were missing a lot of product, but it was really just this pendejo… Angelo took care of him, I promise you."

"And the drugs?"

"Found."

Manuel Orejuela was visibly put at ease upon hearing that, and he smiled through his thick mustache, his olive-toned cheeks a pleasant red color. But the smile disappeared as quickly as it had come as another question came to mind. "But what about this gang? This gang from Saint's Row?"

"Bunch of mulas," Hector replied simply, "A nuisance, nothing more."

Manuel shook his head and warned, "You father would have killed them all by now."

The eldest son of Alejandro Lopez frowned at the mention of his father and furrowed his brow, allowed his tone to darken some as he regarded Mister Orejuela and his comment. "I am not my father," he said, somewhat dangerously.

Unfazed, Manuel replied, "I've noticed."

Before the conversation could progress any farther into a deadly dangerous argument, they were interrupted by a girlish scream, the shattering of glass, and the click of heels approaching from inside. Luz Avalos, Angelo's girlfriend came storming outside in her tight, sleeveless red dress, with Angelo following close behind.

"Don't you walk away from me, Puta!" he half-screamed, and she simply waved him away with a perfectly manicured hand and spat a few phrases in Spanish, which did nothing but fuel the rage Angelo was shamelessly displaying in front of his brother's Colombian guest, "Woman, you listen to me-."

"Enough!" Hector shot up from his seat to address the situation in which Angelo and his woman were acting as children. He regarded them with nothing short of clear disgust and sent them inside, an order which they saw fit to obey as soon as it had been relayed to them.

"You're right," Orejuela stood up when the kids were inside, "It looks like everything is under control… I'll talk to you when the others arrive," he said before taking his leave.

Dex met Troy and I at the gun store later on, just before closing at seven PM. When I arrived, he nodded me over to the counter where I would listen to the saleswoman behind the counter give her sales pitch for a sniper rifle, which she somewhat demonstrated use of from her place behind it. She called it the McManus. It was fully collapsible with an eighteen-inch bull barrel made of cryogenically treated stainless steel which she explained allowed the rifle an accuracy of .2 minute of angle at six-hundred yards. I admired the shiny black metal and the fancy scope as Dex accepted the gun from her. It was beautiful; really, it was probably the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. This gun was so beautiful it would have made Gat jizz in his pants at the sight of it.

As the saleswoman was sorting out Dex's purchase he turned to me, giving me a pat on the arm. "Tight job on that lab, dawg," he said, "We found a memo sayin' that Hector's meetin' with the Colombians tonight. With the amount of firepower that's gonna be there, rushin' in and killin' would be suicide, so I want you to take McManus here and get to the docks. Find a nice, tall building and wait. When Hector makes his move with the Colombians, take your shot, and get out."

Troy behind him spoke up, "When it all goes down, the first people the Carnales is gonna look is right at the Colombians. They're gonna think they got fucked bad, alright? You should have no problem sneaking out in the confusion."

"Just the same, I'd get the fuck outta there. Who knows what could happen?" I had to agree with Dex on that one, but I didn't throw Troy's assurance completely out of the window. Anything could happen, anything good or anything bad. It was just a matter of whether or not I could handle it all myself. I was sure nothing would go down that I wouldn't be able to fight or sneak my way out of since I trusted Troy and Dex enough not to give me a task I couldn't handle.

I got into a cab after the handsome McManus sniper-rifle was presented to me, but rather than get into the back I helped myself into the driver's seat, pushing the previous one out into the road. He didn't seem to mind after catching a glimpse of my big fancy gun. I didn't have much time to get there and get in position, so I slammed on the gas and headed straight for the two neighborhoods away, where I stopped in between two buildings. To my right was a nice, tall building where I could see, but remain unseen, but to my left was the building with the fire escape leading up to the top. I climbed up the cargo boxes that allowed me the extra couple of feet to get to the ladder, McManus strapped to my back as I pulled myself up. Once my feet touched the metal platform, I clambered up the five sets of metal steps and looked for a way that lead over to the opposite building, which wasn't too far from this one. With enough height to give me leverage, I probably could have jumped.

Fortunately, a ventilation shaft stuck out from the building and with a little courage, I could jump to that. Now, I'm not exactly a hardcore parkour kind of chick, so I only just barely made it, making the blood rush through my veins when my legs dangled in the space left between me and the ground. All I could hear for a moment was my heartbeat, and I even stopped breathing, but thankfully the adrenaline had rushed through my body enough to allow me the strength to pull myself up. Not having time enough to love life, I got to my feet on the metal casing and walked along it until it angled upward, climbing onto that level where I was able to hop up and grab onto the ledge of the roof of my building of choice. When I was finally in my well-chosen vantage point, a string of red cars came from the east, and I watched for the Carnales.

They stopped and I watched them exit their vehicles through the scope, zooming in on them as I hid, crouching down behind a chimney sort of structure on the roof. Immediately I recognized a familiar face from Dex's strategy board from back at the church, but no others, so naturally I could assume that this was Hector. He wore a long, blood-red dress coat witch pants to match and various pieces of gold. What really stuck out to me when I zoomed all the way in was the scar over his eye. There was no mistaking that this was one of the Lopez brothers I had seen.

I kept the scope on Hector's head as he and the Colombians approached one another, but once they came to a stop, I waited a second or two and let them talk for a while. This was mostly for myself to get a good look to see which people down there were Carnales and which were Colombians, because I was not to have any Colombians fall in the mix of the dead.

When I felt confident about not fucking up the job, I pulled the trigger, blowing the back of Hector's head all over the Carnales member standing beside him. He fell to the ground limp, his skull quickly spilling its contents all over the pavement. I had little time to relish in my job well done because there was actually still work to do. I switched to the next living Carnales and sent one through his chest. He flew back from where he was standing and probably made a nice thud on the ground. I moved onto the next and did the same, and the next, and the next until all twelve of Hector's boys where lying dead with their guts or brains spilling out all over the place. Of course, they'd switched into panic mode, so it wasn't easy and took me a little while, but lucky for me they were all too busy trying to preserve themselves to be worried about calling for help. Still, I booked it for the way I'd come, finally with the leverage I needed to jump from one building to the other, not without a few scrapes and a limp I had to learn to walk on.

Once I was in the car, the wheels screeched as I sought to do as Dex had told me to earlier and get the fuck outta there.

The Stilwater police were cleaning up of what remained of the Carnales and the Colombian's deal when Victor started eavesdropping on them after coming to answer a call for help by some of Hector's crew. Hector was nowhere to be found and with so many police here, Victor couldn't very well barge in and rescue his boss.

"That was one hell of a tip," one officer said to his partner, who nodded vigorously.

"No kidding," she replied, "with the amount of shit we confiscated, we had enough to put Lopez away for his life."

"It don't matter anyway, he's already been taken care of."

"What do you mean?"

"Chief Monroe's just happy that Lopez is dead, so as far as he's concerned, this case is closed. Hell, if he found the guy who did it, he'd probably even send him a fruit basket."

Victor narrowed his eyes and tightened his fists, but instead of grieving there and then, something more important was needed to be done. He tucked himself away, out of sight and earshot of the police as he picked up his phone to call Angelo. Hector's brother should have been the first to know of his death.

"Mm, Victor," He sounded like he was in a good mood for once, "Hello, hello, Victor. ¡Mira! I'm kind of in the middle of something-," Victor interrupted to deliver the news quickly and without beating about the bush drawing a surprised shout from Angelo, which eventually became enraged, "What? iWhat/i!? Victor," Angelo's breathing had picked up, as if he had started hyperventilating, "Listen to me very carefully. I don't give a fuck about the drugs, I don't give a ifuck/i about Orejuela—who did this to my brother!?"

"What about Hector?" Luz beside him asked, being innocently unaware of the gravity of the situation or what was even going on.

Victor urged Angelo to stay calm. They couldn't afford to lose their cool right now since there was work to be done before a time for grief could be had. Angelo inhaled and exhaled repeatedly in an attempt to calm himself, nodding as he did so.

"Yes, yes, Victor, okay, you're right. You deal with the Saints; I'll deal with the Colombians. It's one of those two groups more likely to have fucked us this way. I swear, if Manuel is behind this…"

I met Dex and Troy around noon the next day, going on only a little sleep after last night's excitement. I loved the McManus. Absolutely loved it, and yes, I would be looking forward to using it again sometime soon if Dex had any more McManus jobs for me. I couldn't imagine he'd let me have too much fun in one week though, so I didn't even bother to ask. Lucky for me, though, he didn't even ask for the gun back, so I supposed it belonged to me now.

We gathered around a desk as Troy passed Dex a file folder full of photos and documents on one guy he called Manuel Orejuela. He had olive skin and a big bushy mustache on his round face that was about as round as the rest of him. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't extremely fat, but he definitely had a few extra pounds on him that would make it easier to roll him to get rid of the body if we ever had to kill him.

"So this guy's the mouthpiece for the Colombians?" Dex asked as he and I looked over the photos.

Troy answered with a positive nod, "Yep."

"And he's in town."

"Yep," Troy looked to me, "We've taken out one of the Carnales' lakes. We smoke this guy and we take out the Carnales for good."

Dex had taken a seat and started to rub his chin, considering while Troy was talking with me before he finally said, "And yet so are we." Both Troy and I looked to him for clarification. "We kill Orejuela and the Colombians will be iall/i up our ass. Let's figure out what his game is first and then we'll decide what to do. Troy, you know where he's at?"

That sounded like a pretty good idea to me. There wasn't any use in bringing on trouble where it could very well be avoided if we applied ourselves. I'm sure Manuel Orejuela could listen to reason before he jumped to pull the trigger on his gun.

Troy shrugged at Dex's last question, "Eh, well I'd start with the strip clubs. I got a tip that he frequents Technically Legal and Tee N' Ay pretty often."

"Cool," Dex said, a little too enthusiastically, "Let's go buy this Drug Lord a lap dance." And I'd thought he'd been talking to Troy when he said that last part, but to my surprise when I didn't move, I felt both pairs of eyes on me.

"Jess," Troy said from behind his cigarette, "I can go instead if you got a problem with strip clubs or somethin'."

"What? Oh-," I shook my head and followed after Dex, wondering if Troy really offered because I looked stubborn or if he wanted a reason to get inside one of those places.

Once we were outside, we took Dex's car, which was a simple purple four-door car. It was the kind of car a family of three or four bought because they didn't need a big car or a work car issued by a pharmaceutical company or something boring like that. In other words, it was plain except for the interesting shade of purple it had been given in the shop.

"When we get to Manuel, just let me do all the talking, alright?" Dex said once we were in the car and he started on the road, refusing to have let me drive after claiming that the rumors about my unholy speeds were enough to convince him not to let me, "I'd hate to fuck things up with the Colombians just because you said some crazy shit that pisses them off."

I looked at him confused, wondering how the hell he could ever make the assumption I'd speak up to the Colombians in the first place and secondly why he was treating me like I was a version of Johnny Gat with better hair and a pair of tits. He didn't even spare me a glance.

"With Hector taken out," he continued, "His brother Angelo is probably calling all of the shots. Lucky for us, he doesn't have his shit together so it'll probably take a while before he's got the crew organized enough to make a move on us," He went silent for a moment or two before finally getting down to the parts he didn't like, "If and when Angelo steps up, he's probably gonna send Victor to do the job. Now I know you think you're all badass and everything, but itrust/i me, Victor ain't no joke," I was wondering whether or not to take that as an insult or as advice, but I couldn't decide before listening to what else he had to say to me, "You run into that asshole, you better make sure you got some serious backup."

I nodded to let him know that I was listening and everything, but other than that half of the conversation that Dex had carried out by himself (which only added to my speculation of why he had to warn me to keep my mouth shut) the ride passed by in twenty minutes of silence until we stopped in the parking lot to Tanya's old club. Dex made no move to get out of the car, so neither did I.

"Let's just sit tight. Manuel should be here soon," and I settled back in my seat only to be momentarily blinded seconds later by the headlights of a much larger vehicle. After covering my eyes, I could very roughly make out the shape of a monster truck, but Dex must have known better what or who it was than I did. "Shit!" he shouted, "Fuck the Colombian, we gotta get the hell outta here," and he stepped on the gas, flipping open the glove box in front of me to reveal a submachine gun which he prompted me to take. I still had my pistol on me, but it was way easier to use someone else's gun and ammunition than it was to use up all of my own.

I did and leaned out of the shotgun window to shoot at the large wheels as the truck behind us sped up to tailgate our much smaller car. When my eyes adjusted, I took a good look through the windshield to make out a familiar face, again from Dex's strategy board back at the church. Victor. Victor was trying to flatten us with his Godzilla-mobile while me and Dex were busy trying to escape it. I fired as many bullets as I could towards the engine and the wheels, though nothing seemed to be working. Dex sped the car up faster, weaving through traffic faster than Victor's death machine could take him. At the sound of gunfire, other cars swerved in front of him just to make his path that much harder to follow, and finally he was out of sight, though I could see Dex had already set his mind on bringing us back to the church.

We walked inside to safety, Dex praising me for my aptitude with a gun when Julius met us in his office, his arms crossed and his expression dark. We both quieted and assumed grave expressions.

"You two go to meet Orejuela tonight?"

"Yeah," Dex said hesitantly, and I took the advice he gave me earlier and just let him do the talking.

Julius' expression grew angrier and he walked forward, clearly not pleased with our answer. Instead of look at my boss who was obviously fuming, I took a look around the room, spotting Troy in one of those short church pews, leaning up against a pillar and downing a beer. He motioned me to sit next to him since Julius seemed to be focusing most of his attention at Dex, and I gladly took the seat, waiting for his wrath to be turned on me next.

"Julius, I don't see what the big deal is," Dex said.

"The ideal/i is that you went to talk to the Colombians without me."

"We didn't even get to meet him, Jules."

Julius shook his head, "Don't call me Jules. You haven't earned it," and I felt that verbal smack all the way over where I sat.

"Fine! Julius, you put ime/i in charge of the Los Carnales," realizing how he'd slipped up, he turned to Troy, "Shit, now you got me sayin' it!" Troy only flipped him the bird.

Julius ignored the grammatical error issue, seeing as how it wasn't very important. "Dex," he pressed somewhat harshly, "Do your job. Don't think you're bigger than you are. When it comes to the Colombians, you call me, understand?"

Dex sighed and nodded vigorously just to get him off his back and replied with a short, "Yeah."

Visibly calmed now, Julius nodded as well and started simply, "Good. Now that that's settled—," but before he could even finish his sentence, gunfire came from outside of the church doors and we all rose to attention drawing our own weapons and falling back into safety as Los Carnales started rushing in.

We fought our way through their numbers that had come inside, strewing what remained of the church pews with Carnales bodies until we could get to the south side of the church where they were coming in from. We gathered on the steps and used the pillars as cover, taking turns to empty our clips at the invading Carnales, who against the four of us and the other Saints swarming the outside of the church and the rest of the Row didn't stand a chance.

Well, almost. It was when I'd emptied my clip immediately and had nothing else to fight with that things really started to take a downward spiral for me. It felt searing hot, as if someone had stuck the hot end of a fireplace poker in my shoulder when the bullet went through, and throughout my entire right shoulder and upper arm I just felt warm. When I hit the ground in a daze I felt pretty much nothing and heard and saw pretty much nothing save for the exceptionally slowed gunfire and battle sounds between the Saints and the Carnales.

"Shit, Troy take care of that!" I heard Julius' muffled voice as I searched myself, trying to make sure I wasn't pissing myself because even if the placing didn't add up, all I felt was wet.

Troy hovered over me and I stared back at him, pretty much out of it by this point, but he called me back to reality when he pressed on the wound and I was in extreme pain. Biting back tears, I barked a single curse which could be heard by everyone in the church yard now that the fighting on this side had died down.

"Take her inside, we'll get the east side when these motherfuckers start rolling in," I heard Julius say, but at this point I was in too much pain to really care about anything anymore. Troy obeyed and I was lain down on a church pew, watching several other Saints buzz by after Dex and Julius before they went out of sight.

"Just keep pressure on it, Jess."


	12. Chapter 12

I woke sometime later, realizing finally that I couldn't remember how I had gotten underneath the dim yellow light I had opened my eyes to. The bed I was in was soft but clearly worn and old, but my surroundings had obviously been cleaned in an attempt to make them sterile. It was no different than waking up in my bed at my mom's house. I was definitely not in the church, but I was certainly somewhere safe. When I tried to sit up, my shoulder ached severely, but I felt it wrapped up in something, and there certainly wasn't any feeling of having a foreign object lodged in my flesh. The burning sensation was gone too.

I looked up to the sound of an middle-aged man with thinning gray hair grunting as he was hunched over some items on a small counter. This room was made to be some sort of hospital room, but it was strangely residential. No doubt this was some sort of doctor, but why he was practicing out of his own home rather than in a hospital was unknown to me. I cleared my throat, which was too dry at the moment to speak, and he turned around. His thick brows were furrowed, but they raised about halfway up his forehead when he saw me, and his thick mustache curled up with the curve of his smile.

"It's good to see you awake. You're a lucky one, that bullet barely missed your clavicle. I swear it's always something with you kids that go around waving your guns in the air like they're full of BB's." I drowned him out with my own thoughts, then because all that he was saying was just a bunch of bullshit I didn't need. Instead, I threw my legs over the side of the bed and was in the middle of stretching my stiff legs, back, and good arm when I heard footsteps from the front of the house. When the door of the room opened and I saw Dex, a smile spread over my face, and I almost got up. Him coming in and flopping down to take a seat next to me made me think twice. The smell of cigarette smoke was right behind him. Troy just stayed leaning in the door frame though.

"'Bout time you woke up," he said, blowing a puff of smoke into the room, "You missed it when I lit one of these up on Victor. You also missed Dex bitchin' at me about it," It was at this point that the doctor squeezed past him into the rest of the house and Troy closed the door behind him.

"'Cause you a fuckin' sick piece of shit, lighting up one of those damn cancer sticks on that burnt-ass motherfucker," Dex didn't sound happy in the least to have his bitching brought up again, but I laughed, causing Troy to smirk a little bit. They asked me how I was feeling, and I figured a positive shrug from my good shoulder would say that I'd live. They took it as a good enough answer and the room went quiet for a moment or two before Troy spoke up again to Dex.

"So, how'd that meeting go with Julius?" That was apparently another thing I had missed.

He shrugged beside me, his expression looking a bit more please, "He just got back from a sit-down with Orejuela and they came to a, uh, _interesting_ agreement. If we can get back _all_ of the drugs the cops seized, the Colombians are willing to work with us exclusively. We'll have a lock on the whole city." This was great news, actually, and Dex and I grinned, but Troy shook his head.

"Get the drugs back from the cops?" he asked, taking his cigarette out of his mouth, "How the fuck are we gonna do that?"

"We takin' out the police station."

How calmly Dex had said that surprised me a little, and now it was Troy's turn to get riled. He shook his head and waved his hands, stepping on an ember that fell from his cigarette, "Are you outta your fuckin' mind? They'd lock that place down before you'd get anywhere."

"It's Jules'—I mean, _Julius'_ plan. We gotta go with it, he called it, Troy."

"We ain't gotta do shit," The tension in the air thickened and made me a little uncomfortable, but I watched as they argued in silence, my eyes switching back and forth between the two, "If you load up a car with explosives, you can blow a hole right through the evidence locker and not even have to fire a shot."

Pausing with an intrigued look on his face, Dex finally nodded, "That might lower the body count. Aight. Let's do it." They looked to me, staring at me for a moment and they both fidgeted as if they wanted to move. I was waiting for them to start leaving, and even leaned to slip on my sneakers that were by the bed, but Dex spoke up again, "Uh. I'll drive you home, but you don't have to come along."

"What? Bullshit, I'm going with you. I got shot and I bitched a little, big deal," the way I grimaced when my shoulder was jostled a little gave away at how sore I was, "Just gimme some painkillers and a gun, I'll be fine."

"Bull. Shit," Troy puffed a cloud of smoke my way when he said that.

"Fuck you."

Dex shook his head and rubbed his temples, "Alright, if it's gonna keep you from bitching, why don't you tag along? You can be auxiliary, but that's it. Bitch at all about that and I'll let Troy put his cigarette out in your ear."

Auxiliary? Fuck that. But it was as good as I was gonna get and something was better than nothing. I nodded finally and pulled on my sweatshirt, frowning at the hole in the shoulder and told them, "Alright. Fine by me."

Troy helped me up and we went out to Dex's car and piled in with me in the back seat. Dex had some of my things in a bag on the backseat, including my pistol and a change of clothes. The only thing I bothered with was the sweater and the shirt I was wearing, switching them out for a clean T-shirt that had Aisha's name scrawled on the front and a stripe-pattern hoodie flashing the Saint's purple. I grunted as I put them on, drawing eyes from the front seat. I could tell they were thinking about not taking me at all, but I would throw a tantrum the size of Stilwater U.

Dex drove into the garage Johnny and I had gone to in order to get Aisha's car loaded with explosives earlier, and the same mechanic loaded it up the same way. Knowing from my last experience how that shit was unstable, I nodded when he told Dex to drive carefully, but I also crossed my fingers and hoped he would hurry the fuck up and not drive like a Grandma on heavy painkillers. He pulled out of the garage quickly, though and I was a little satisfied with the speed he used going towards the police station. On the way, Dex called for the truck we used for our Trojan Horse-style operation a while back and sure enough when we finally got there it was parked on the corner.

"Alright, everyone out, quick," Dex said after he'd parked the car outside of the evidence locker wall. I didn't waste any time gaining some distance between me and the car before it blew, and neither did Troy and Dex. The truck down the street responded quickly and began rolling forward, positioning itself with open doors to back up right against the hole in the wall, men and women armed with SMGs and clad in purple jumping inside the room to load the drugs onto the truck.

Troy looked to me as police sirens went off in the distance, and got louder as they approached, "Try not to get shot this time, okay? I ain't got the patience."

"You'd be sad if I died," I replied quickly, drawing my pistol and turning to find the direction that the police sirens were coming from. When the cruiser turned the corner, I aimed for in between the driver's eyes and watched the vehicle swerve and hit the coffee shop across the street.

"Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't," He shrugged as he got the passenger in her chest while she was getting out, "Would be a shame, even if you are a psycho."

Another cruiser turned the corner and I watched Dex pick up a shotgun and blow out one of their wheels "You saying you like me?" I asked. It might have been the pain killers making me so talkative.

Troy grunted and gunned down another cop with his double Vice 9's, putting one in his knee and another in his throat. Another car turned down the corner, and another at the opposite ends, and so the three of us had to focus our gunfire separately, keeping watch for cars on both sides of us to protect the truck while the Saints loaded up the truck. It wasn't long until they sent those black vans, but by that time, Troy was tugging on the sleeve of my good arm.

"Let's go, Jess, we gotta get this shit back to the garage, let's move!" I followed after him, scrambling to climb into the passenger's seat of the car before I spotted in the Police station's parking lot my baby. My silver bootlegger baby! God, how I missed that car. I still had the keys, they were at home, but I just hadn't had any time to come get it. Now that I knew exactly where it was, I could. Troy spotted me smiling as he made the truck lurch forward and he harshly blew out the smoke from his fresh cigarette and mumbled something under his breath.

Behind us, the vans bashed into the truck as Troy stepped on the gas and tried to keep it steady while we headed for the garage. It was only a matter of time before we would run into road blocks set up by SWAT vans. Troy pushed the gas as far as he could make it go and I leaned out of the window, blowing out the tires of as many cars as I could. That had slowed them down and it was quiet for a while so I went back to my seat. Up ahead, a couple of Saints on the sidewalk spread out some tire spikes behind us on our way to the garage. Sirens blared in the distance as we pulled up to it, and so Troy fidgeted at the wheel, eager to get the truck inside and hide away. When the door shut, he sighed in relief and took a drag on his cigarette. I sighed too.

Later at a brightly-colored bar with some Ricky Martin sounding music playing over the stereo, a chubby, balding man with a thick Latin accent and a mustache just as thick shook Julius' hand with a smile. The guy seemed pretty friendly, especially compared to those Carnales assholes he used to fuck around with.

"Mister Little," he said, "I'm beginning to think we can do business."

Julius smiled, showing his white teeth with a shrug, "I'm glad we could work things out."

Orejuela nodded and asked, "So. How exactly would you like to move things forward?"

Only Julius didn't get to answer because a young man in a red and black suit kicked down the door, shouting something in Spanish, so naturally I couldn't understand and jumped to put my hand on my gun, drawing it. And fuck, was I right. I immediately recognized one of the Carnales assholes from Dex's drawing board. It was Angelo Lopez, with too much hair gel, too much cologne, too much jewelry, and too big of a gun to not be compensating for something.

"You'll die for what you did to my brother!" He shouted, only this didn't exactly make everyone jump to crawl back inside their mothers.

Dex actually leaned over to ask, "I wonder if he's talking to us, or Manuel?"

That question was answered when he started firing haphazardly into the bar. He'd meant both us and Manuel, it didn't matter. In his eyes, all of us must have been responsible for Hector's death even though I'd been the only one to pull the trigger. I acted quickly and wrapped my arms around Dex's waist, throwing him and myself into cover behind a booth, and I took my pistol out from the clean jeans I'd changed into earlier. I swear I'd have pissed myself right then if I had to pee at all. We all had our guns out at this point, firing off a few shots but ultimately missing every single one of them. Shit.

Angelo also missed anyone he'd meant to kill, instead blowing apart a few patrons. When he backed out of the doorway and hopped in his car, I scrambled to my feet, only to have Orejuela grab my hand. I screamed internally when my shoulder was tugged at and turned towards him, thinking about making him eat a bullet, but I used my better judgment on that one. He didn't have a damn clue.

"I know where he'll go," he said, taking a slip of paper out of his cream-colored jacket that was now dusty with whatever was on the floor of this shit hole, and handed it to Julius, "This is where Angelo lives with his woman. Consider it payment for your… act of good faith." He smirked, "And when you go over there? I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill the Senorita." As he turned to leave he promised that he'd keep in touch.

I went and stocked up on whatever I needed. Caffeine pills, painkillers, ammo, an extra jacket to make my momma proud, and my car. I told Dex I'd meet him in half an hour at the church, probably giving Angelo enough time to settle down at home and develop false hope. Instead of going straight home, I swung by the police station and paid some pothead my own age to get my car for me. I kicked him out and kept half the money I said I'd give to him once he rolled up and took off for the church, proud that there was not a scratch on my car. Dex came walking out, looking unimpressed that I'd gotten my baby back in one piece.

"I know this ain't my style," he said as he got in the car, "But after that shit at the church, I wanna make sure Angelo gets what's coming to him. I bet you do too."

My shoulder still ached from when Orejuela tugged my arm and I nodded, my expression turning grim. I was going to fill the bastard up with lead. My passenger didn't seem to notice. He just sat pointing me in the direction I was supposed to go to get to the Lopez's mansion.

"Let's get there in one piece," he said when he felt that I had a lead foot on the gas pedal, "We're gonna have enough problems with Angelo's boys. We don't need any else…" I'd ignored him, but he didn't complain, even as I turned onto the highway at top speed. Instead, he chose to chatter on, "Just between you and me? I don't trust Manuel. If he's so easy to sell Angelo out, what says he won't do the same to us?"

"Maybe he won't turn out so bad," I said and he shrugged.

"Maybe not. But eh, anyways. I really hate to sound like Johnny, but the best plan I got at the moment is to go in there and take Angelo out. Blow him all the way to Hell. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but that dude's come knockin' at our door twice. I think it's time we repay the favor, you know?" I nodded in response. I knew. Like Hell, I knew. I barely knew anything about the guy and already I wanted to make him swallow one of my bullets. I guess he deserved it more than anyone else I knew, at least I could say that much. We drove in silence, and Dex pointed out the Mansion before we got close. "Be careful," he said, "I got your back, now you have mine. Make sure I don't get killed. And don't get your ass shot again!" I flipped him the bird for that.

My shotgun was no longer in the backseat where I kept it, and so I had to pick one off of the body of the first guy I gunned down. It would be way more effective than one of my VICE 9's against the however many guys Angelo had waiting for us at his house. Dex and I pushed forward through the gate into the backyard. It was really a nice looking place. Obviously worth a lot. I'm sure that price will go down if blood got in the pool. A stocky guy in red showed his face and his gun from behind the thick stone fence, and I blasted him out of hiding to watch him stumble into the pool. There weren't that many guys in the yard, surprisingly, and so Dex and I moved towards the door.

There were three guys in the living room. Dex took one down as he struggled to get up, lodging a bullet from his pistol into the guy's skull as I blew his friend's chest over. The couch was already red, so when he fell over on it, it didn't make much difference. The guys in the kitchen were now alerted to our presence in the house, so we took cover behind the corpses and the couches, firing until all was quiet on the bottom floor. Getting up, I observed one of them sitting on the floor, hunched over with a hole in his gut.

We found the large stair case leading up to the floor Angelo was likely hiding out in, dropping motherfuckers until all of the doors were kicked down except for one. Angelo was behind it, pointing a gun directly at my chest with a smirk on his face. That's when he pulled the trigger.

It clicked.

Empty.

He paled when he realized he had no bullets left, and it took a moment for what just happened to register in my mind. That was all he needed to launch himself off of his balcony into a bush. I tried to fire a couple of shots, but sudden rage made my hand a bit shaky and I missed as he threw himself into the window of his garage. I decided to follow after him, forgetting about the wound in my shoulder as I landed in the bush, immediately regretting my decision when a branch jabbed me in the sorest spot on my body. I yelped and got up, only to stumble out of the way as Angelo's car came rumbling down the driveway. The wheels on that thing screeched as he left me in the dust, nearly flattening me. I prepared for another one of his boys when the rumbling of another engine sounded in my ears, but I realized it was only Dex in the front seat of my car.

"Don't just stare at me, get in, motherfucker!" he urged, giving me no time to complain that he was driving. I jumped in and he stepped on the gas after Angelo. He handed me a machine gun he'd picked up inside and instructed me to shoot if we saw any trouble. I kept my eye out and aimed at the wheels of any particularly speedy red cars I saw as Dex stayed hot on Angelo's tail. He sped up and got close enough for me to almost smell all of that shitty cologne Angelo put on, and tried running him off the road, but the Carnales leader kept his vehicle steady and even sped up when he was the draw bridge. To my surprise, Dex didn't slow down. He kept going even though the chances of us making that jump—chances of Angelo making that jump- were slim. Still, Angelo maintained his high speeds and launched his car in the air as I put down my gun and clenched the seat and watched with wide eyes.

Time seemed to slow down. Time probably did slow down as Angelo watched us from his sporty little convertible as the front wheels touched down on the other side of the bridge, and the back wheels follow suit. His windows shattered and the pain job was scratched up, but he released a confident shriek as he zoomed off into the distance as our car had come to a shrieking stop, teetering off of the edge of this half of the drawbridge.

"Holy fuck!" I shouted. My side of the car was what would push us over the edge and so I scooted closer to Dex.

"Don't worry about it," Dex said calmly enough for me to think that he was convinced I said that over Angelo getting away, "He ain't got too many places to go. We'll get him… let's just get outta here."


	13. Chapter 13

I'd gone to sleep easier than I'd expected to that night, passing out on the bare mattress in my small apartment and waking up late in the morning, groggily and with a headache from having overslept. I wanted to wash it off with a shower, but the best I could do was a bit of soap on a wet washcloth and sticking my head underneath the shower. I didn't want to get my shoulder wet, nor did I want to put it under hot water. Still, I felt significantly better and refreshed.

After brushing my teeth and washing a bagel down with a cup of repulsive instant coffee, my hair had dried mostly and I got dressed, throwing on some clean jeans and the same purple Aisha t-shirt I wore yesterday. Throwing on my huge Stilwater U sweater and my sneakers, I went out to pick up some extra rounds of ammo at the gun shop and answered a couple of texts from Johnny. He's convinced that I should get a tattoo.

I was almost home when Dex came to a stop in his car beside me. Mine was parked in the driveway, barely coming out of the ordeal with the drawbridge unscathed. Dex waved me into the car and I opened the door to the passenger's side, taking a seat and plopping my groceries on the floor as he took off.

"One of Troy's crew saw Angelo drivin' to the airport. We gotta find his ass 'fore he can skip town an' rebuild. And we don't got much time. If lope gets on that plane, we're fucked." I nodded as Dex hit the gas like I normally would and turned onto the highway at top speed. Normally this would have made me raise a brow since he and troy usually fidgeted when I propelled my machine death at the velocity of the earth orbiting the sun, but I kept my mouth shut like always and again, let Dex do all the talking.

Even at these speeds, however, it was going to be a bit of a long ride. As he wove in between cars, barely missing them, I observed my surroundings for a guess at where we were. The Airport was still all the way on the other side of Stilwater, so we were really pushing it with the time here. I reached in my "grocery bag" from the gun store and loaded up my brand new automatic rifle. The driver didn't even blink.

It wasn't as long as I'd anticipated before we were in the general vicinity of the airport and Dex told me, "We gotta fuck that plane up good. You a better shot, I'll keep at the wheel." And then he aimed his car towards the runway, smashing through the fence to make himself a shortcut. I scanned the area for a red car when I caught a glimpse of red silk disappearing into a small plane. Red cars on the outside confirmed that this was Angelo and so immediately, I aimed for the engines, only I was distracted by bullets whizzing by my head. A group of the fuckers congregated inside the hanger for cover and I leaned over the seat as Dex turned away to gun them down. The jet Angelo was going to take off in whirred, but it wasn't quite ready for takeoff yet, to my relief. That's when out of the corner of my eye in the backseat I beheld a destroyer so beautiful it was all I had not to cry. Dex brought a rocket launcher and didn't even tell me. Those were reserved for the plane.

Another vehicle came up beside us, a man in the front seat wearing a red bandana around his face and his boy in the passenger's seat wearing a red t-shirt to cover his face. I didn't give either of them a chance to say "Hector says Buenos Noches." Like I'd once witnessed and I watched as the driver keeled over into the passenger and listened as he screamed at the superfluous amount of brain on his face. The car veered off into the wall of another hangar. That's when Dex saw the plane about to take off and steered us behind it on the runway, only another Carnales was shooting at us from directly behind the plane as my rockets were fired and they missed.

A bullet lodged itself into the padding of my seat beside my head, sending me into a rage. I wasn't going to let some stupid banger from the barrio kill me over some gang leader's baby brother. I aimed with precision at their vehicle, directly for the back seat and fired a rocket. The car disintegrated, sending a piece here and there, each one up in flames. The hood cover came flying off of its hinges and lodged itself in the engine of Angelo's jet. There was a whirring sound dying down with the scrape of metal on metal as sparks flew inside the engine. Dex brought us to a quick stop to watch at the engine tried to keep going with a piece of metal jammed. It took the wing right off when it blew, sending it in one direction as the rest of the plane when in another, the other wing snapping off and catching flames when it teetered and scraped against the concrete.

There was no way Angelo was still alive, not as fire poured out of the broken windows.

"Johnny's gonna be jealous," Dex chuckled, giving me a fist bump. I smiled, but that was cut short by the sound of another car coming buzzing up the runway. I drew my gun and pointed it at the driver as she stepped out in a short black dress and expensive heels. A look at her expert tan and her styled hair and the way she cowered away from staring down the barrel of my automatic told me that this was probably the woman Orejuela had been talking about.

When she saw the plane and my gun, her voice came out in a helpless whine, "O-oh my God!"

To my surprise, Dex got out of the car and stood to tower over her and stare her down, though he was unsuccessful because they were roughly the same height when she wore the heels. I didn't put down my gun, and she was still sweating, nervous.

"What are you doin' here?" He asked.

"I-I was supposed to go with Angelo."

"So what's in here?" He looked at the bag she was holding, "Guns? Money? Some uncut shit?" This was the point that I put down my gun and rubbed my temples. Dex was fucking retarded; nobody like this lady was going to bring anything like that. He figured it out himself when he took a peek in the bag and looked back up at her, exasperated, " _Shoes?_ "

Luz, Angelo's girlfriend whose name I had just remembered from Dex's drawing board, shrugged with a smile like her boyfriend hadn't just been murdered. Dex took one of the heels out to show me.

"Actually, they're this season's new—," Luz started only for me to interrupt her.

"Bullshit," I said, "That's _last_ season's fall collection. Don't try to fucking lie."

She laughed nervously as I picked my gun up again. I was still in the mood for killing, Angelo's death had seemed too anticlimactic for me to be satisfied.

"Let it go, man," Dex said, "No reason to piss of Manuel." I reluctantly complied and put my rifle in the back seat while Dex got back into the car.

"B-but what am I supposed to do now?" Luz asked us, looking at the plane where Angelo's corpse was probably still on fire.

"I don't fuckin' care." Dex replied.

"You can't just leave me here!"

"See answer A."

"But I have no place to go-."

"Bitch," Dex put a hand up to signify that she should really think about just shutting the fuck up, "You're trying my patience."

"Can you at least tell me where Manuel is?" I looked away from her pleading expression at this point. I was still in the mood to put a bullet in her ass.

I smiled when Dex looked at me and said, "I changed my mind, shoot her." I picked up my rifle and pointed it at her, but I didn't fire because she scrambled to get back in her car. Knowing Julius would rather have Manuel happy, I didn't try once she was inside the car and heading away from us. A moment passed in silence before Dex spoke up again.

"Good job, man. I'll tell Julius we're done here. Want a ride back to your crib?" I nodded and he fired up the engine. When we got back to my place, he said, "You know? I think Julius was right about you," and took off.

About a week later, with my wound healing up to the point where I didn't need to exercise so much caution with it (keep in mind that it still hurt like a bitch), I got a text from Lin. She said that she gave me some time to rest and heal up a bit before we met up and so she told me to come meet her at her location, a small alleyway where her white and blue car was parked. I was grateful for her giving me some time between killing Angelo and starting up with the Rollerz, because honestly? I passed out about every night from exhaustion. I also took Johnny's advice and he went with me to get my first tattoo, right on my neck, just like him. It was a black outlined fleur on my right side, right below my ear and I had to keep it covered with some ointment for a while.

When I got there, I spotted her wearing blue sweatpants and I remembered that she was infiltrating the Rollerz and taking them down from the inside. I stayed hidden, though; she was talking to two other members, men. They didn't believe her when she said she tuned up her car herself, and she was growing more and more aggravated the more they talked about which body work looked like which mechanic.

As soon as they turned and left, I came out of my hiding place, Lin turning to face me. When she saw who it was, she lowered her voice and told me to come closer. When I did, she picked a piece of lint off of my shirt and said, "I swear to God we aren't gonna be able to kill these bastards fast enough." She lit up a cigarette and blew out the smoke like she was exhaling all of the stress she had to deal with in the day, "Aside from macho bullshit, I haven't heard much. The only interesting news I've gotten is that a shipment of performance cars is coming in today."

I looked at her curiously as she took another puff from her cigarette and she nodded apparently not having anything to say in regards to my silence yet like I'd gotten, "It's not much, I know, but we're gonna make the best of it. You gotta jack the truck carrying the cars before it makes its delivery and bring it to Samson," I recognized that as the name outside of the garage I'd gone to get Aisha's car and the one we used on the evidence locker loaded with explosives, "He'll load up the car with a few surprises and then finish the delivery. Now you better get outta here before someone sees us."

I turned quickly and headed down the alley, stopping at a corner with a stop sign so that I didn't have to be a hooker wearing short shorts to get cars to stop for me. In my t-shirt and jeans, I opened up the door to the first sedan that rolled up and I took my pistol out of the waist of my jeans to motivate the driver into getting the fuck out. I fired up the gas and read a new text from Lin. The truck should be on the freeway. I made the tires screech as I turned the corner and sped for it, only pulling over once to get some Saints to come with me. When the three of them piled in, I had almost hoped one would be Antonio, but I knew I shouldn't be so hopeful. He was probably dead, for all I knew. Or in jail. I sped onto the freeway and when I spotted a carrier truck with cars, I stepped on the gas and pulled in front of it before I slammed on the breaks. The truck crushed the trunk of my car and the two of us stopped. When the door to the cab of the truck opened up for the driver to come out, and when the doors of the blue cars escorting it opened, that's when I got out.

"You stupid bitch, don't you know what you're doing?!" The driver asked me. I put a bullet in his chest. The Rollerz dropped their baseball bats and hopped back in their cars as me and another Saint got into the cab of the truck. They tried to race me, but this vehicle was too large for any of them to even accurately attempt running me off the road. Grinning, I sharply turned the wheel and sent one of the little cars spinning out, over the edge of the bridge and into the road below as my new friend shot out their wheels. When all was quiet, I set out on the course for the garage as quickly as I could.


	14. Chapter 14

I met up with Johnny at a greasy dive bar a couple of blocks from my house the day after I killed Angelo and did the job for Lin. It wasn't a bad place, it just wasn't any place I'd go without using the buddy system, and even Johnny's crippled ass was buddy system enough. His leg was still in that cast, so we sat at a corner table where he propped it up on a third seat. We casually put away a couple of beers—or rather, he did as I sat back and sipped at the same one for a while after having gotten it with a fake ID, and he chattered away about how he'd been. I stayed mostly silent except for a few words here and there which he seemed generally surprised at.

"So, Eesh's been up my ass about wanting to go this place and that and I'm like, fuck that, you ain't goin' anywhere, you're dead. Really I just don't wanna bring her anywhere people are gonna recognize her, like those fuckin' Japanese restaurants. Who the fuck likes sushi anyway?"

I shrugged and tried chugging the rest of my beer (only the face I made gave away how I felt about it and prompted Gat to make fun of me), feeling my phone vibrate in the pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out to see a text from Troy about Lin. She wanted to meet me and he was coming to get me since whatever she wanted was going to be a two-man job. I said goodbye to Johnny, who said he wouldn't have any trouble getting home, and I waited outside for Troy to come rolling up to let me in.

"Hey," he said, blowing some cigarette smoke my way.

"Hey."

He smiled a little as he took off for our destination that lead us to about a block inside Rollerz territory, but lucky for us, the car we were in was neutral color and I was only flashing a weird shade on my purple tank top. Inside, underneath the light in the club we were headed for, it would probably look a bit different. What was even better was the fact that the only blue car I could see parked in front of it was Lin's. Troy got out with me and walked inside. We were instantly greeted with the muffled beat of some Pitbull song before we walked down a narrow staircase into the bowels of the building, where the music was loud enough that you had to shout, and the lights were brilliant colors. People bounced around on the floor and sat around at the bar off to the side. Troy and I headed there first to sit and look for Lin without looking like we didn't belong.

The bartender asked if he could get me anything, and I obliged, flashing my ID and asking for a beer. As soon as I got it and the bartender turned away, Troy swiped it from me and downed about half of it. I considered fighting him for it, but that would have just drawn attention.

"Dude, what the fuck?" I asked.

"I'm thirsty as hell and it ain't like you need it," he said. That was true, sure, but I wanted it. Lin approaching cut it short though, and my attention was drawn away from my beer.

She ordered herself a drink at the bar and sipped on it when it was served to her before she leaned in towards me, "Don't look too conspicuous," she said, as she slipped the rubber band out of my hair and started to weave it into a long braid, Troy staring off into space beside us, trying to look interested in the people dancing. "

You did good the other day," she told me, "but I'm not done with you. Those cars you stole have been rigged to blow once the engine reaches a certain temperature. I need you to make sure those cars get nice and hot," I nodded—that idea was like a different version of Speed, only Keanu Reeves wasn't going to be flying down the road with them to try and stop the cars from blowing.

"There's a race going down in Chinatown tonight," Lin continued, "And I think you should give 'em some tough competition. I know these guys, if you're in the lead during the last stretch, they're gonna hit the nitrous and blow past you. When they do, _boom._ Soon as those cars are wrecked, get the _hell_ outta there. You're no good to us dead."

She tied up the end of the braid she made in my hair and patted me on the shoulder, signifying that it was my time to go. Wishing me luck, Lin made her way into the crowd of people busy dancing, and I grabbed Troy's hand to weave into them, only to come out on the other side and head for the stairs.

The car he brought wasn't a jalopy by any means, it would actually go quite fast, and it was decked out like a racing car too, bright red with professional-looking white decals. It was a perfect paint job. Of course, it was what was under the hood that really mattered, and when we were driving before, the thing had growled pretty nicely and I noticed after he had tossed me the keys that I only had to tap the gas to make it zip down the street.

We were halfway to Chinatown when I heard the click of a handgun being prepped for fire and I glanced over at Troy. He held his VICE 9 in his hands, his brow slightly furrowed and his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Listen," he said. He sounded a little agitated, "I don't care what Lin says. You get me next to those cars and _I'll_ take care of the Rollerz. To hell with this lap-race bullshit."

Before I could interject with any, 'but father, I must race in this race,' shit, he picked back up again. "I don't like the idea of goin' under cover. You roll with people long enough and pretty soon, you start thinkin' like 'em." I shrugged. Yeah, that was true. Before Julius picked me up off of that sidewalk, I would have never done any of the things or been inclined to do any of this shit I do today. Street racing? I'd have rather stayed at home and watched The Fast and the Furious.

"Lin's smart though," I told him, "I can tell. She's not like in those dirty cop movies where the good cop goes undercover in the Mafia and by the end of the film he's a totally different man. That's not real life."

"Eh. You'd be surprised how much of that movie shit turns out to be pretty real. Some of it is, though it ain't like it happens every day," He shrugged as I pulled onto a street corner where a trio of familiar cars were parked, and their drivers, dressed in white t-shirts under black basketball jerseys and blue sweatpants were waiting. "Here it is," Troy said, "Hope Lin followed up on her end of the deal."

Once a fourth car joined in their race, they got into the driver's seats and we got into position at a crossroads, the stop sign being the starting line. A girl stood in between the cars waving around a white rag and dressed in short shorts. She counted down, and when she reached "GO!" We all stepped on the gas, tires squealing as we propelled ourselves all the way down the street in our chosen suburban location directly to the east of Chinatown. The other cars were all ahead of me, but as I pressed the gas down I gained on the one closest to me quickly. When I did, Troy told me to keep the car at a steady speed next to the guy. Then he leaned out of the window.

"Go back to the suburbs, you prep-boy piece of shit!" He shouted, launching his lit cigarette with precision into the driver's seat. I heard a growl and some choice words from my opposing driver as he stepped on the gas, the both of us gaining on the ones ahead. I stepped on the gas again, speeding down the long road we were taking and trying to be as cautious as I could as we maneuvered a bend in the road, all the while Troy shouted taunts at the other last place driver.

"Don't come cryin' to me when you gotta give me your parents' car, asshole!" Troy said, and at that comment, the kid I was racing against, probably about my age, fired up the nitrous and lurched forward. We were left in the dust, and he wasn't closing half the distance between him and those other cars before he blew. I swerved around the carcass of the vehicle that was his grave, and I floored it, sending the car lurching forward to catch up with the other ones. They were close together, but when I came rolling up, my palms sweating as I focused on keeping my car steady and fast.

"See you at the finish line, bitch!" He taunted the next driver, who tried to ignore him. But Troy kept making jabs, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the kid start to sweat in frustration. He was pretty good at making kids my age cry, I had to give Troy that, because this kid also threw on the Nitroud prematurely, sticking his hand out of the window to send us the bird as he was zooming away, getting up close to the other driver, only that was when he followed after his friend from earlier and blew, just as he'd rammed his other friend in the trunk. The two of their cars tangled together in a fiery mess and I pulled off to the side of the road, stomping on the breaks and causing Troy to have to stick his arm on the dash for support so he didn't windshield himself.

"That wasn't so hard. Those kids needed thicker skins, that's all I gotta say," he said after he pulled a cigarette from the box in his pocket, offering me one. I declined and he lit it up as I put the car into drive once again, ignoring the fiery wrecks on the road by swerving around them.

"So, uh, that happened," I said, shrugging at the way he'd been so callous. That was a little weird coming from Troy. He and Dex usually called me out for being a psychopath, "You taunt kids into blowing themselves up often or is it just a one-time thing?"

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" He stared out of the window as he smoked.

"You're the one that called me a psycho for flattening a VK, and now you're the one taunting kids my age until they trigger the bombs rigged to their cars, I just wanna know what's up… that shit you said about rolling with some people too long. Does that get to you in a bad way or something?"

"Or something," he said. I was driving back to my house for some sleep, and I parked the car about a block from the apartment, getting out to walk the rest of the way. Troy came with me and we stopped at my apartment door for me to fumble with my keys. I let him in and we sat down to kill a bottle of whiskey I picked up when my shoulder was bothering me a little too much.

He spent the night. I woke up at noon with a splitting headache and another text from Lin asking me to meet her for lunch at some Chinese restaurant to find that out, but I figured it wasn't too much of a big deal. I mean, people do that shit all the time. I shrugged it off, getting dressed and leaving him to sleep off the hangover he probably had with my door locked in case anyone was curious enough to see if I had anything worth stealing.

I got in my silver General Lee, and parked it outside of the restaurant, probably looking like shit, but suddenly too hungry to care. My head hurt, and my stomach rumbled, that was all I could think about. I met up with Lin at a table where she tossed a lighter behind her. I bumped into the guy who went to pick it up, and spat on his shoes when he didn't react so politely to my apology.

"I swear, you and me are always making new friends," Lin told me as she puffed on her cigarette. When she glanced over she said, "You messed up your hair," and motioned for me to turn around so she could do it over again. As she did, she explained, " Things are moving too slow, we gotta step it up. Heard a guy named Joseph Price calls the shots. I don't know much about him 'cept that he's good friends with a mechanic named Donnie. I bet if we get in good with Price's crew, we can always be one step ahead of those fuckers. Here's the plan: go and tear up Donnie's shop. Right when you're about to finish off Price's buddy, I come in and save the day. Make it look good, but don't you _dare_ mess up my car," she tugged on my hair a little as she said this and she certainly got her point across, "If we're lucky, Donnie will arrange a meet with Price."

Lin finished her job on my hair and thanked me for buying her tea—that I had no clue I was doing. I stared at it, and slapped a couple of bucks down on the counter after she left, placing them underneath her little cup and getting out of the restaurant. I didn't necessarily want to do work while I was hungover, my eyes bloodshot and my head throbbing, but destroying something was probably good for me.


End file.
